Us Against the World
by Aleksander Haydn
Summary: ("We've all done the worst kinds of things just to stay alive." -Rick) Charlotte Covington had done just that. In a world where survival is the only thing that really matters, the line between "good" and "bad" gets blurred, and people will do whatever they think is necessary, no matter the risk.
1. Chapter 1

_"The looters hit the pharmacies first, then gun shops, then liquor stores. The less you go out, the less chance you get exposed."_ -Tobias; **Fear the Walking Dead**

* * *

When Charlotte first heard news of the virus, she had been in Virginia, visiting family. She didn't think too much of it; hell, she thought it'd blow over in a couple weeks. The way it was being described made people believe it was just some cold, something that could be handled with some medicine you'd get at a pharmacy. But then it started changing. The news started saying that whoever contracted the virus would die—it was unavoidable. Specialists who would work with diseases and other illnesses refused to release any information; the people started panicking.

But then the news started getting weirder. The people who were supposedly "dead" suddenly weren't. They were coming back and they were violent. News of cannibalization spread quickly, and soon there was a nationwide panic.

The virus had spread quickly, hitting big cities the hardest. Alerts were being sent out, telling anyone who was listening to go to a designated safe-zone or, if they were near big cities that seemed unaffected, to go there.

The military showed up.

Not even _that_ worked.

In the end, those who were confined to the big cities didn't last long. Those who were in the mercy of the military were left for dead. The soldiers ended up abandoning them.

Power had gone out, the radios stopped broadcasting. Everyone was isolated. They were alone.

Then the second wave of panic hit. Whatever hadn't been looted the first time around was hit again. Houses were broken into; people— _families_ —were torn apart or turned on each other.

 _That_ was when everything had really gone to hell.

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

Charlotte let out a sigh. She looked around, squinting against the sun overhead. She'd been walking for hours, hoping she'd come across _some_ thing, but she hadn't. Any cars she saw were so overheated by the sun they were useless; the batteries were fried or dead; there was no gas in it; it was infested with rotters—the list went on. She hit all the small towns she came across, getting all the necessary materials she'd need, but that didn't mean it was easy. Charlotte had to keep an eye out for rotters _and_ survivors.

The dead, sure, they could be avoided or killed.

 _Survivors_ on the other hand weren't so simple. They'd do anything to get what they think belongs to them. The living were just as dangerous as the dead.

Charlotte let out another sigh. At this point in her journey, after so much time had passed, she wasn't really sure _where_ she was. She'd been visiting her family in Virginia when news of the virus broke out; that only lasted two weeks. At the time, Charlotte lived in Tennessee with her boyfriend, Gavin. When time came for Charlotte to go back home, her mother, Alondra, was worried.

"What if you get infected?" Alondra had exclaimed.

"Ma, I'll be _fine_." That had been what Charlotte told her mother for the remainder of her stay. _I'll be fine_.

Swallowing thickly, Charlotte looked down. She tried forcing the thought from her mind. That had been the last time she saw her family before things went to hell. Were they alive? Had they turned? She should've called them before the power went out.

Shaking her head, Charlotte took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She had to keep herself clear-minded. Taking in one more breath before letting it out, Charlotte started walking.

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

Even though memories of before were a reminder of what the world _used_ to be, there was also dangerous factors to it. There was nostalgia; it distracted people, made them vulnerable. People who thrived on their nostalgia were easy targets. Charlotte didn't want to be one of those people. Occasionally she'd have a thought or a memory of before, but she wouldn't dwell on it any longer than necessary. If a rotter showed up and she was too busy thinking about the old world, she'd be dead. If a survivor showed up and she was too busy reminiscing, she'd be dead. Memories were a distraction. Distractions were dangerous.

Instead, Charlotte made herself think up a list of things she needed before the day came to an end. It kept her sane.

 _Food. Water. Shelter. Weapons. Medicine._ There were days where the list had more than just that, but those were still included; they were more important than anything else. Sometimes the small towns had a few of the things on Charlotte's list and it would have to do, other days she couldn't find any of them and it would frustrate her to no end, knowing she wasted an entire day.

Charlotte made sure to avoid big cities, though. While smaller or more average sized towns had a number of rotters in them, the cities had at least double the amount. And since Charlotte was travelling alone, she couldn't afford to go into a city and get bit. She knew that if she gave at least _one_ city a chance, there might be a possibility of finding what she needed, but she just couldn't do it.

 _You can't risk doing something like that on your own,_ she'd remind herself. _You don't have anyone else with you. Not anymore. Play it safe, but still do what you need to do._

Play it safe, but still do what you need to do.

A deep frown settled on Charlotte's face.

She was trying. She really was.

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **I don't think this chapter was really good or not, but hopefully you guys found some kind of enjoyment out of it. Let me know what you think, OK?**

 **Sadly, I do not own anything in TWD universe.**

 **The first episode of season 7 comes out today! Maybe we'll know who Negan kills. I'm kind of scared on who it might be, since I don't want any of them to be killed off; but I think it's a tie between Glenn and Abraham. Or, if the producers and/or writers decided to have Negan kill two people, I'm sticking with it being Glenn and Abraham. Only 'cause Abraham's already dead in the comics and _(also in the comics, but I know a lot of you already know this)_ Negan kills Glenn. But that's just me being an overanalyzing nerd.**

 **Leave a thought on anything I can improve on.**

 **Sincerely,**

 **Alek Haydn**


	2. Chapter 2

_"Honestly, I think the world's going to end bloody. But it doesn't mean we shouldn't fight."_ -Dean Winchester; **Supernatural**

* * *

Charlotte remembered, when she made it back to Tennessee and back to Gavin, how grateful she was to be home. She remembered watching television, spending time with her boyfriend, going out with friends, doing completely _normal_ things. She remembered, rather vividly, how many things she took for granted. Cars, hospitals, electricity, food, _homes_ —with the way the world had ended up, Charlotte would've given _anything_ to have those things back. But at the same time, she didn't want them. All those things she took for granted made her selfish and lazy; it gave her a bleak outlook on life, made her feel like she could do anything. It made her want to laugh, how she acted in the old world.

In the new world, Charlotte was starting to understand that things would never— _never_ —go her way. People would use her for their own advantage, for their own means of survival. They'd kill her in order to live.

That was what Gavin tried doing.

After the military had left their safe-zone, and after the second wave of rioting hit, Gavin had undergone a change. He became hostile, irritable, paranoid. He didn't see the humanity in anyone, even those who still truly had theirs. Gavin wanted what he wanted, and he'd do anything to take it. Charlotte tried brushing off his behavior, telling herself that he was just upset over the military's abandonment and that he was letting out some steam and that he'll get over it eventually—and that, and that, and that.

Gavin never got over it.

Charlotte saw his demons—his hostility, his paranoia, his irritability—slowly crawl into his soul. For a while, they had his ear, Charlotte could see that; but what she didn't realize was that he had accepted those demons into his soul, to control him and help him survive. No one else mattered but _him_. It would be a couple weeks after society fell that Gavin, Charlotte, and a few other survivors they found along the way _(all of whom died later on)_ would encounter a group of survivors who wanted to make a trade. Gavin had killed one of their men, and he was willing to hand Charlotte over to make it even.

The other group had been killed. Charlotte killed Gavin.

Eventually, Charlotte decided to travel on her own. People couldn't be trusted, even if it had been believed they were well-known. Charlotte said farewell to the her remaining group members and went on her way; and as good as they were at taking down rotters and—though it had been through sheer _luck_ that they managed to kill that group in the first place— _possibly_ an occasional living threat, they weren't that strong. They were as good as dead anyway.

So, Charlotte travelled on foot to wherever she felt was safe for the moment. She couldn't stay in a single place for any longer than a night; if she had to stay for two, it would be risky.

However much time had passed since she had seen her old group last, Charlotte didn't know. Time wasn't important to her, living was.

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

Charlotte paused in front of a sign; it was filthy and barely legible, but she could still make it out. _Atlanta; One Mile_. Part of Charlotte was genuinely surprised; she managed to travel from Tennessee all the way to Georgia.

 _You're doing good,_ she thought, a hint of pride welling up in her. She hesitated before taking a step. Atlanta was a relatively big city, and there had to be hundreds of rotters in there. Turning back, Charlotte's eyes trailed back the road she walked down. She had taken dirt road upon dirt road before making it onto the highway she was on. Cars, buses, and trucks littered the highway; rotters were roaming the streets or stuck inside a vehicle. Personal belongings were scattered on the road, which gave Charlotte an opportunity to look at what she could find.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she tried going over whether she should continue going or turn back.

 _It's probably well past midday at this point, if you turn back now, you're wasting an entire day._ That was one thing Charlotte couldn't stand. She wanted her days to be productive. They _had_ to be. _Atlanta may be a big city, but there might be some valuable things in there. You've made it this far, just keep going._

The thought made Charlotte scoff. She had no other choice _but_ to keep going. Sighing, she kept walking.

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

It would be well into her trek down the highway when a sound caught Charlotte's attention. It wasn't the sound of rotters, but the sputtering of an engine. An _actual_ engine. The sound made her heart flutter and her stomach jump. She hadn't heard a sound like that in what felt like a lifetime. Kneeling down and carefully maneuvering through the cars, she saw an average sized motorhome come to a slow halt, the front of it smoking.

Carefully, Charlotte took out one of her knives. She kept two on her, just to be safe.

The doors of the motorhome opened, an older looking man climbed out with a younger man in tow. After the younger man came a small herd of other people.

"I said it," the older man exclaimed, "didn't I say it? A thousand times. Dead in the water."

The younger man who followed him out of the motorhome gave a slight scoff. "Problem, Dale?"

Charlotte couldn't help it, but she started feeling herself stand up from where she was hidden. It was obvious the group didn't see her, and she wanted to keep it that way, but for some reason she just couldn't stop herself from standing up. She hadn't seen real, living people in a what felt like forever, and they were in trouble.

 _If you help them, they'll be indebted to you._ The thought flitted through her mind for a split second before coming back. It was true, if she helped with their problem, they'd _have_ to repay her.

She was brought back to reality by the sound of someone shouting at her. Turning her head, she saw a scruffy looking guy pointed a crossbow in her direction. In no time at all, anyone else in that group who had a weapon were aiming at her, too.

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **...I honestly have no words to describe the season 7 premier...I had six months to emotionally prepare myself, and that still was not enough time. All I have to really say was that this season seems to be taking a way darker turn than the previous ones, and that I really, _really_ do not like Negan or his men.**

 **Fortunately, I own nothing in TWD franchise.**

 **For those of you who have seen the premier, leave a review on your thoughts. Leave a review for this chapter if you want. Right now, I'm still trying to comprehend this episode, so...yeah. Do whatever you want.**

 **Leave a thought on anything I can improve on.**

 **Sincerely,**

 **Alek Haydn**


	3. Chapter 3

_"You get hurt, hurt 'em back. You get killed...walk it off."_ -Steve Rogers; **Avengers: Age of Ultron**

* * *

In that moment, Charlotte was—in her head, mind you—calling herself every possible name in the book. Why she decided to stand up, she had no idea. Maybe she was just, unconsciously, so relieved to see real people she couldn't help it—she'll never know. What she _did_ know was that she felt idiotic and a little irritated.

"Put the knife down!" The young man who'd followed the older one—Dale—had a rifle pointed at Charlotte's head, a glare evident on his face. His hair—and he had a lot of hair—was sort of slicked back, and he had an advantage on her when it came to height and muscle. From what Charlotte could gather, he was well-equipped when it came to guns.

"You deaf or what?" The one with the crossbow took a small step forward, getting his himself ready in case he needed to fire.

Charlotte rolled her eyes. Kneeling, she put her knife on the ground before standing up; her hands in the air. "Honestly, if you guys think I could take you all on, you're goddamn idiots," she said.

"How do _we_ know you don't have people?" the rifle bearing man exclaimed.

"Because people are useless in a time like this," Charlotte responded. "They're either weak or they lose their shit. There's no in-between." Charlotte's gaze went around the group, briefly taking in their appearance. She saw two young kids—a boy and a girl—standing close to their mothers; a young man with a sheriff's hat; an Asian guy; an African American guy; and a young woman with blonde hair.

"You can't mean that." The man with the sheriff's hat looked at Charlotte closely, assessing her. Charlotte fixed him with a look.

"Why are we even doing this?" she sighed after a heavy few seconds of silence. "I'm alone and I'm not dumb enough to attack you guys. Just let me through."

"You're going into Atlanta?" The Asian guy took a step forward, a look of worry on his face.

"I've made it this far, I might as well keep going."

"It's a suicide trip." Charlotte's eyes flickered to the man with the sheriff's hat. "Atlanta belongs to the dead now."

Narrowing her eyes slightly, Charlotte pursed her lips. "It's overrun?" He nodded. Closing her eyes, Charlotte let out a long, frustrated sigh. "There goes a couple hours down the drain," she muttered.

"What were you looking for there?" Dale asked, looking at Charlotte carefully.

"Whatever it had to offer." Lowering her arms, Charlotte folded them across her chest. She let out a silent curse.

After another heavy silence, the man with the sheriff's hat told anyone holding a weapon to Charlotte to lower them. It took a bit of convincing and a lot of hesitation, but they did.

"Maybe we can do a trade," he offered.

Looking at him closely, Charlotte's gray eyes glittered with anticipation. "What kind of trade?"

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

Charlotte waited patiently as the man with the rifle and the man with the sheriff's hat quietly argued; not to mention a skinny woman with black hair adding her hushed input. The guy who had his crossbow aimed at her kept a close eye on her, but Charlotte's focus wasn't on him; it was on the sheriff's hat guy. He wanted a trade, she was interested. After a couple minutes of silent arguing between the three of them, obviously the sheriff's hat guy got the upper-hand, leaving the woman and the rifle man looking a little peeved.

"Did you want to trade or not?" she asked. "Daylight's wasting away; I have to find shelter before nightfall."

Sheriff's hat guy nodded. "What do you have to offer?" he asked.

"Why don't you tell _me_ what _you_ have."

Letting out a sigh, he pursed his lips before accepting her request. "We have some food we can offer," he suggested. Some protests came from his companions.

Charlotte nodded carefully. "I've got a fair share of medicine," she said. "From the sounds of your friends, food seems a little tight." Sheriff's hat guy gave a slight nod. "I won't ask for a lot of your supplies; but I _will_ give you a decent amount of medicine."

"What _kind_ of medicine?" he asked.

"Painkillers, sleeping pills, anti-inflammatories, cold and flu medicine—I hit the pharmacies first when I get the chance."

Sheriff's hat guy looked at Charlotte closely, as if he were really seeing her. "You know a lot on medicine?" he asked.

"I was a nurse before," she said; Charlotte took notice to how the group stood straighter, their gazes hardening. "Well...I was _studying_ to become a nurse. I had a year left in school, but...that doesn't matter now."

"It matters." Sheriff's hat guy nodded. "Believe me, it does."

"I don't think we properly introduced ourselves."

A hint of a smile swept across the man's face. "Rick Grimes," he said, nodding.

Charlotte hummed. "Charlotte Covington. I have to say, though, 'Grimes' is an interesting last name." Rick let out an airy chuckle. "And while it has been a pleasure chatting with you, I'd like to know if the deal's set. A little of your food for some of my medicine."

Rick looked back at his group, as if silently communicating with them, before turning back to Charlotte. His eyes were sparkling with some unnamed emotion as he regarded her. "I'm going to change the deal a little," he suggested. Charlotte's brows furrowed. "What would you say about joining us?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Someone who has medical training is important," Rick exclaimed, "they're valuable. You help us and we'll help you."

Narrowing her eyes, Charlotte tapped her fingers on her forearm, her arms still folded across her chest. "Rick, you don't even know me," she said.

"You said yourself you weren't dumb enough to take us all on." The determination in Rick's voice made Charlotte's chest tighten. He seemed so... _innocent_ in the way things worked in the new world. He had a look in his eyes; an almost naivety, as if he could see the goodness in someone.

"But I also said people were useless in a time like this," she countered.

"We don't know each other," Rick exclaimed, "but if you give us a chance..."

"Man, why are we even doing this?" The man with the rifle looked exasperated, almost irritated. "She ain't interested; let her go."

Glancing at the rifle man for a moment, Charlotte's focus went back to Rick, who seemed a little peeved at his comrade's interruption. While there was a hopefulness in Rick's eyes, his friend didn't share his optimism. Rick's friend had a darkness looming over him, the same kind of darkness that had consumed Gavin once upon a time; only this man's darkness was more intense. This man's demons had been accepted into his soul probably long before the end of the world.

"You want me to give you a chance?" Charlotte asked. Rick nodded. "I'll give you one day to prove yourself. I've already wasted this one and I need a place to stay. If you're not as useful as you say, my earlier offer still stands. Once it's done I'll be on my way and we'll never see each other again."

Though there was a hint of disappointment in Rick's eyes at her answer, it was good enough for him.

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

For the time being, given that Rick and his people couldn't really go anywhere in the motorhome's current condition, Dale had to fix up the engine while the others scattered to get whatever necessities were available. Charlotte offered to help Dale find materials for the engine for his motorhome; given that she would be staying for the group for one day, she needed to make herself useful. She wasn't one to sit back and have others do the hard work while she did nothing.

"You'll be going with Glenn and Shane," Dale said, after he formally introduced himself. "I've been teaching Glenn about how to repair the engine in case something happens; he'll be able to help."

Charlotte looked over and saw the Asian guy and the man with the rifle standing not too far off from where she had been talking with Dale.

Stepping forward, the Asian guy offered his hand. "I'm Glenn," he said, a boyish smile on his face.

"Charlotte." Taking Glenn's hand, she shook it firmly. Looking over at the man with the rifle—whom Charlotte deduced to be Shane—she gave him a slight nod. "You're Shane, then." He nodded wordlessly, his face almost stony. "Well, let's get to it."

The trio started slowly walking, investigating car engines for the necessary parts.

"You were really studying to be a nurse?" Glenn asked, his voice sounding almost as hopeful as Rick's.

"Mm-hmm. What were you?"

"I delivered pizzas."

Charlotte chuckled at that. "I'd give anything for a pizza now," she sighed. "That was what got me through finals week."

Glenn let out a lively laugh.

"Trust me, you would've been my best friend during my college days," Charlotte exclaimed. "I don't even think I would've passed my finals if it hadn't been for pizza."

"You love it that much?" Glenn asked, the smile still on his face.

"Always." Charlotte's face fell. "It's not important anymore. Helping you find those pieces for Dale is."

The smile on Glenn's face disappeared at Charlotte's sudden emotional change. It was so sudden it was startling. But he knew she had a point; they needed to stay focused to get the task done.

 _Don't go all nostalgic now,_ Charlotte thought, mentally scolding herself. _Keep yourself focused and attentive. Play it safe, but still do what you need to do._

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **Sorry it took a bit to get this chapter up, but here it is! Hopefully you guys like it. Also, if it felt a bit sloppy, just tell me where and I'll try and fix it up the best I can. But, on the bright side, at least it's longer than the previous chapters.**

 **I own nothing from TWD. All I own are my characters and deep emotional damage.**

 **Despite the fact that the season 7 premier was just a couple days ago, I'm still really upset with who Negan killed and how he just toyed with everyone throughout the entire episode. I'm just hoping that Maggie's OK and everyone else makes it to at least the midseason finale. I'm really hoping. I don't think I can handle losing anyone else.**

 **Leave a thought on anything I can improve on.**

 **Sincerely,**

 **Alek Haydn**


	4. Chapter 4

_"What's the point in them being happy now if they're just going to be sad later? The answer is, of course_ _—because they are going to be sad later."_ -the Doctor; **Doctor Who**

* * *

Charlotte continued helping Glenn gather the necessary materials for Dale's motorhome; she kept her thoughts occupied with what she dubbed 'a sub-list' to keep herself concentrating on what she needed to do. The longer she could keep herself focused on her sub-list, the less likely she'd be able to go nostalgic.

"How bad's Atlanta?" Charlotte asked, daring to glance at Glenn for just a moment.

Glenn's face paled a little; he was leaning over an engine, unscrewing a piece to add to his growing collection for Dale. "Really bad," he murmured.

"It was completely overrun?"

"The walkers were spread throughout the whole city," Glenn exclaimed.

Charlotte's brows furrowed for a moment. "You call 'em walkers?" she asked. Glenn, nodded wordlessly. Charlotte hummed. "I always called them 'rotters'."

"Still means the same thing," he sighed.

A heavy silence fell between Glenn and Charlotte; it was in that moment that she decided to just look around for a moment, to really see what was going on around her. For the most part, there didn't seem to be _that_ many rotters—or _walkers_ , as Glenn called them—just Rick's people _(or most of them, at least)_ going from car to car, hoping to find gas or essentials. Dale stood atop his motorhome with binoculars in hand; Rick stood nearby with a rifle. Charlotte looked away for a moment. The sun was still beating down on them; the heat not even letting up for a moment. Charlotte and Rick's people were filthy, sweaty, and tired; but they couldn't stop doing their jobs just because of that.

Movement out of the corner of Charlotte's eye caught her attention—it was Shane; he was walking off, holding his weapon in a rather prideful manner, as he studied nearby vehicles with disinterest. Charlotte's gaze went back to Glenn.

"Ya know, I think you'd be a good addition to our group," Glenn said, handing Charlotte the piece he'd unscrewed. "Aside from your medical experience, that is."

"None of you know me, I told Rick that," Charlotte responded. "I could've done some messed up shit before I met you guys. Would you really be so accepting of someone like that?"

"Haven't we _all_ done something messed up to survive?" The look in Glenn's eyes made him look older than what he was. Charlotte knew he had to be younger than her, but he had a certain amount of wisdom to him, that much she could gather.

"Just 'cause we've done bad things doesn't make it right."

Before Glenn had a chance to respond, a clanking noise could be heard before Shane let out a pleased sound. "Glenn," he exclaimed, "were we short on water?"

Looking back at him, Charlotte's and Glenn's eyes lit up at the sight of a small truck filled with containers of water. The van itself looked untouched. Shane excitedly opened one of the containers, water spilling out onto his head. Glenn let out an ecstatic shout. "Save me some!" he cried.

Charlotte unconsciously rushed over to where the pouring water was; Shane looked at her for a moment before stepping aside, allowing her to step under the water. It was warm, but it still felt nice. It washed some of the grime off her face and dampened her clothes; but that didn't matter to Charlotte, the only thing that mattered was how relieved she felt. She even opened her mouth, drinking some of the water. Stepping away for a moment, she wiped some of her wet auburn hair out of her face.

For a good moment, the three of them felt as if they were in a moment of bliss; Shane had found enough water to last weeks. And while that meant good news for _Rick's_ people, it probably wouldn't end the same way with Charlotte. She couldn't say for sure whether or not all that water would be shared with her, despite any good she did for the group during her one-day trial period.

Running a hand through her hair, Charlotte glanced around, looking at the abandoned vehicles with a slight frown. Her frown only deepened when she saw a rotter stumbling into cars, aimlessly stumbling by. After her little discussion with Rick, Charlotte had picked up her knife and kept it close to her; needless to say, she was happy she did that, even if she did have a spare. While she got her knife out, another rotter caught her eye; then another, then another. It was a growing herd of rotters.

"Herd," she said simply, gripping the handle of her blade tighter.

"What?" Glenn exclaimed, sounding almost terrified.

Pointing in the direction of the rotters, Charlotte fixed him with a look. " _Herd_ ," she hissed.

Shane let out a curse. "Get under the cars," he snapped. Charlotte threw him a look. "You think you can take 'em all, go ahead. Don't matter to me either way." Finding the nearest car to hide under, Glenn followed suit, not before giving Charlotte a pleading look. Pursing her lips, she quickly laid down and scurried underneath a car.

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

Seeing the shuffling, rotted, undead legs and feet of the rotters shuffling by the cars Shane, Glenn, and Charlotte were hiding under made them feel anxious. What if a rotter noticed one of them? How'd they handle taking down that many rotters at once? Those kinds of thoughts made Charlotte's heart skip a beat. The first time she _ever_ saw a herd of the undead was not even a month after the old world had come to an end. It hadn't been big, but it was big _enough_ to be a significant problem. Charlotte was untrained to kill the dead at the time; she wasn't sure what was going on, but she was learning and steadily adapting.

Charlotte was thankful she at least knew what she had to do to take down a rotter. Always go for the head, no matter what.

The sound of a rotter heavily slamming itself against the car Charlotte was hiding under made her flinch, she had to suppress a surprised sound, hoping they wouldn't notice her. They didn't. The rotters kept walking, groaning and shuffling; their stench filling the hot air. That was _another_ thing she couldn't stand—the smell. It was one thing having to deal with the unbearable heat, it was another having to deal with a rotter that had been exposed to the elements too long. The heat caused decomposition to happen quicker, which meant that the rotters would smell quicker, and be...softer. Despite the amount of time that went by, just the thought of how badly a rotter could smell made her stomach roll.

After what felt like a lifetime of waiting, the rotters started thinning out until there were hardly any going by. Despite her muscles wanting her to move, Charlotte knew better than to do so. There would always be that _one_ undead bastard who was lagging behind, drawing the attention of the others when it found something alive.

Though, as it'd turns out, Charlotte didn't _have_ to worry about herself being noticed. The screams of a little girl caught their attention.

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **How was this chapter? I hope the story's been keeping up with keeping you guys interested. I know there've been a small _(and I mean small)_ handful of people who have reviewed so far, and I thank you guys immensely, and there have been people who have favorited and/or followed the story, which I'm happy about! There must be something that's keeping you guys fascinated. But don't hesitate to give a little constructive criticism where you think it's needed. Is it becoming just a rewrite of the episode? What do you think of Charlotte? This story will be an eventual Charlotte/Daryl match-up, so how should they interact before any romance starts?**

 **TWD universe doesn't belong to me.**

 **Do you have a potential subplot you'd like to see written in the story? Leave a review or PM me. Do you have an OC you'd like to see written into the story? Leave a review or PM me! I know it's only 4 chapters into the story, but I think the creativity of the reviewers is important.**

 **Leave a thought on anything I can improve on.**

 **Sincerely,**

 **Alek Haydn**


	5. Chapter 5

_"People live their lives bound by what they accept as correct and true. That's how they define 'reality'. But what does it mean to be 'correct' or 'true'?"_ -Itachi Uchiha; **Naruto**

* * *

It didn't seem to matter that a herd of rotters just stumbled on by, the sound of that little girl's scream made Shane, Glenn, and Charlotte jump out from under those cars so quickly they barely had time to process it. By the time they reached where the others were, Rick was already jumping over the side-rail of the highway into some wooded area. A woman with her hair cut to the scalp was crying, being held back by the skinny woman with the black hair.

"What happened?" Charlotte asked.

"Two walkers are after my baby!" the short-haired woman cried.

Charlotte felt her blood run cold. "I-I could go help Rick," she stammered.

"You don't even know where the _hell_ he went," the man with the crossbow exclaimed. A glare was thrown his way.

What was she supposed to do now?

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

While waiting for Rick to return, Glenn decided he had enough parts to help Dale with his motorhome. Charlotte waited with the short-haired woman near where Rick had run off. Charlotte never had kids of her own, but the idea of a child being chased down by rotters—on their own especially—terrified her.

"Rick will find her," Charlotte said, looking at the short-haired woman. It had been a couple minutes, and the short-haired woman received as much comfort from the others as she could get. But they had their responsibilities, so they had to go.

The short-haired woman glanced at Charlotte. "She's all I have left," she said, her voice trembling. "I can't lose her."

Swallowing thickly, Charlotte nodded. "She'll be fine," she sighed. A few long seconds ticked by. "I'm Charlotte...I don't think we had the chance to introduce ourselves."

Sniffling and wiping the tears from her eyes, the short-haired woman tried for a smile. "Carol."

A smile spread across Charlotte's face. "I had an aunt named Carol," she said. "Everyone loved her."

Carol let out a wet laugh. Tears came back in her eyes.

"It'll be OK," Charlotte repeated. "She'll be OK. Rick will find her." Carol nodded wordlessly. "I'm gonna go for a little bit. If you need anything, just give me a holler." With another wordless nod, Charlotte walked off. She wasn't entirely sure what she was supposed to do next, with Glenn and Dale fixing up the motorhome and the others having found their own essentials.

 _See if there's anything left for you to take,_ she thought. _Rick may be sharing some of his food with you, but that doesn't mean you can't stock up._

It was a good idea. Cautiously, Charlotte started looking into the windows of some of the cars. That was important; whenever checking an abandoned car for food or water or medicine, always make sure there isn't a rotter inside.

"What're you doing?" Charlotte turned and saw a little boy standing behind her. He had black hair; big, hopeful eyes; and an innocence that made Charlotte's gut twist. There would be no doubt in Charlotte's mind that the boy had seen things no child should ever have to see, but somehow he managed to maintain his innocence.

"I'm looking for essentials," she answered.

Tilting his head a little, the boy looked at her curiously. "But...I thought you were getting stuff from my dad," he said, sounding a little confused.

"And who's your dad?" Charlotte asked.

"He went after Sophia," he responded, as if Charlotte should already know who he was talking about. It didn't take long after that for her to put two-and-two together.

"Listen...," Charlotte said, her voice trailing off.

"Carl."

"Right, _Carl_ —look, you seem like a nice kid, but you shouldn't be wandering off to talk to strangers."

His gaze hardened for a moment. "My dad seems to trust you," he exclaimed.

"'Cause I know a few things on medicine." Charlotte fixed Carl with a look. "He wouldn't have offered me anything if I didn't." Carl's gaze went downward, as if he were really thinking over what he'd been told. "OK, your father seems like a good man, you seem like a good kid. But here's something that's really important—it's an old world rule, but it still applies here, too—never, under any circumstances, trust _anyone._ "

"But what if they're good people?"

Charlotte pursed her lips. She could've told Carl the story about Gavin; about how the man she thought she knew completely changed. "Sometimes good people don't always stay good," she said. "You probably knew someone your entire life and they were the nicest person on the planet, but once they're in a situation where it's their life or yours..." She trailed off. "Be careful of everyone, that's what I'm trying to tell you. You never know how someone's going to turn out until it's too late."

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

It took a while, but Rick eventually came back, but not with Sophia. Instead, he came back covered in blood. The first thought that went through Charlotte's mind was the possibility of Sophia being killed. How else would he describe all that blood? Unless he got the rotters who chased her.

Rick had gathered Glenn, Shane, and the man with the crossbow; the four men talking silently to each other. Charlotte could see the tears silently falling down Carol's face as she tried to calm herself down, knowing Rick hadn't come back with her daughter. Not long after the four men came together, Rick announced they were going to search the wooded area for Sophia and they'd be back soon enough.

"Charlotte." The sound of a man's voice caused her to jump; she hadn't been paying very close attention. Turning, she saw Dale standing beside the African American man; the man looked a little woozy, sweat beading on his forehead as he held one of his arms close to him. Blood stained the man's shirt and dripped down his arm. "I need your help," Dale pleaded.

"With what?" Charlotte looked at Dale's companion cautiously. "Is he bit?"

"No, but he's hurt." Dale carefully helped his friend turn his arm around; a deep gash ran along his arm, blood still dripping from the wound.

"Shit," she hissed. Quickly going to grab her backpack, Charlotte came back and opened it up, digging through the contents to find her medicine bag. "Sit him down," she instructed. Dale helped his friend down, leaning him against the side of a car. "Can you tell me your name?"

"T-Dog."

"OK, T-Dog, I need you to keep your arm outstretched," she instructed, "and keep it still. I don't have anything to stitch the wound up with, but I have bandages." T-Dog nodded wordlessly, trying to keep his arm as steady as possible. Taking out a decent amount of gauze and some disinfectant medicine, Charlotte poured some of the medicine on the gauze and pressed it firmly against the wound before putting some wrap on it. A pained look swept across T-Dog's face, and he tensed up, but at that point Charlotte had finished wrapping his arm. "I've got some painkillers in here," she said. Taking out a bottle, she opened it and took out two pills. "Take these with some water, if you have any. I'll give you some more after a couple hours." Putting the bottle away, Charlotte looked at Dale. "Keep track of the gauze. There's already a significant amount of blood being absorbed, but I can give him more after a little while."

"Thank you," Dale said, looking relieved.

Charlotte shook his head. "I wish I could've stitched his wound up, but I could never find a needle..."

"What you did was good enough." Dale put a comforting hand on Charlotte's shoulder. "I don't know how well T-Dog would have been if it hadn't been for you."

A hint of a smile came across her face. "Thanks, I guess," she said. "Keep an eye on him. I'm gonna try and find more medicine."

Dale nodded and sat down next to T-Dog.

Closing her backpack once everything was put away, Charlotte started walking toward the abandoned cars. Maybe Rick's people needed _her_ help more than she needed _theirs_.

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **Heya, everyone. How was this chapter? I'm hoping that the story's going well so far for you guys. Let me know what you think.**

 **Out of the countless things I don't own in the world, TWD is one of them.**

 **If you have ideas for subplots or OCs, don't hesitate to leave a review or PM me.**

 **How do you think Charlotte's doing in regards to interacting with Rick's people? I know she hasn't exactly said much to Shane, and she hasn't officially met Daryl or Lori yet, and she's only just started talking to T-Dog, but how do you think she's doing with the others? If there's anything you'd like to see happen between Charlotte and any of Rick's people, don't hesitate to let me know. But this will be a Daryl/Charlotte story. I believe I've mentioned that before. I think you guys get what I mean.**

 **Leave a thought on anything I can improve on.**

 **Sincerely,**

 **Alek Haydn**


	6. Chapter 6

_"When the whole world is silent, even one voice becomes powerful."_ -Malala Yousafzai

* * *

Charlotte had found only a few bottles of painkillers in the cars she scavenged through. It wasn't much, but it could help T-Dog with his cut until she could figure out how to help his wound. She _had_ tried digging through some of the belongings in the cars to find _some_ thing to stitch the wound, but she couldn't find anything. She let out a silent curse.

 _If that wound isn't closed, he'll get an infection._ Charlotte didn't want to think that way, but she knew it would happen. If T-Dog didn't get some kind of infection, even _with_ the disinfectant applied, he'd probably bleed out and...

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Charlotte let out a sigh. Turning and looking back, Charlotte could see Rick's people trying to keep themselves occupied until Rick and the other men came back. God only knows how much times passed since they left to look for Sophia, and Charlotte knew that not only was it getting dark, but they'd have to stop searching soon. As important as it was to look for Carol's daughter, they'd only manage to get themselves lost in the woods if they stayed out after sundown.

Putting the painkillers she'd gathered into her backpack, Charlotte zipped it up before walking back to Dale's motorhome. At that point, any repairs that needed to be done had finished. The front wasn't smoking, which Charlotte took as a good sign.

Deciding she should probably find where T-Dog and Dale were, Charlotte found them in the same spot; T-Dog was still sweating _(which she knew had nothing to do with the heat)_ and seemed a little disoriented.

"Any better?" she asked.

Dale shook his head. "He's still bleeding," he sighed.

"T-Dog, hey, look at me." He did, and Charlotte saw how his eyes were glazed over. She let out a sigh. Inspecting his injured arm, she noticed how the gauze was already completely covered in blood. "I'm gonna change your gauze, OK?" Nodding, he tensed up ever-so-slightly as Charlotte got what she needed. While she carefully removed the gauze, T-Dog gritted his teeth against the pain. "What's 'T-Dog' stand for anyway?" she asked, hoping it'd distract him.

"Theodore Douglas," he said, his voice sounding wobbly and tense.

Charlotte nodded. "That's a nice name," she said. "'T-Dog' just makes it easier?"

"I guess," he said.

"I had a niece who always used to call me 'Lottie'," Charlotte said, pouring some disinfectant onto the clean gauze. "I guess 'Charlotte' was too long for her."

T-Dog let out a trembling laugh which quickly turned into a hiss when Charlotte pressed the gauze onto his cut. "How old was your niece?" he hissed.

"Close to six," she responded, "but that was before the outbreak."

"She still alive?"

"I don't know."

Charlotte's niece, Ashleigh, was the only child of her brother, Trevor, and his wife, Kayla. Trevor and Charlotte were twins, with her brother being the eldest by twelve minutes. Then after them, their parents went on to have three boys. Charlotte and her mother were the only girls in the family. But that didn't mean they got along all the time. Charlotte and her mother, Alondra, always had clashing personalities; sometimes they'd get along, but that was rare. There was _always_ something they fought about.

Every now and again, Charlotte would get herself worried about her family's current status. Were they alive? Where were they? What happened to them? If there was an evacuation in their hometown, where had her parents gone? What about Trevor and his family? What about Charlotte's younger brothers? Those thoughts always buzzed around in her mind, making her worried and then angry that she hadn't stayed with them. Charlotte would always wonder what would've happened if she stayed with her family instead of going back to Tennessee; instead of going back to Gavin. Would she be in the same scenario she was in? Helping a man with his arm cut open? Probably not.

Finishing up wrapping T-Dog's arm, Charlotte let out a sigh. "How's the pain?" she asked.

"Still hurts."

"The painkillers didn't do much?" Charlotte's brows furrowed. T-Dog shook his head. Letting out a slightly frustrated sigh, Charlotte brushed some of her hair out of her face. "I don't know if I should give you anymore medicine," she said, "but if the pain's _that_ bad..."

"I think I'll be fine," T-Dog grumbled.

"If you're in that much pain...," Charlotte exclaimed.

"Listen, you need to keep as much as those meds as possible." T-Dog gave a slight nod. "It's a deep cut; I'm bound to be in a lot of pain."

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

It took a while longer for Shane and Glenn to come back, and when they did, Carol became teary-eyed again. The sun was already started lowering in the sky, and the sweltering heat was starting to cool.

"Where's Rick and Daryl?" the skinny, black-haired woman exclaimed.

"They're going to look for a little longer," Glenn exclaimed. "We have a clue on where Sophia can possibly be, we'll find her."

Charlotte took note to how _'we'll find her'_ became less of a reassurance for Carol; less of a reassurance for any of them. While it was important to find Sophia, it was starting to feel more and more like a task than some kind of rescue mission. If that were the right term for it.

Charlotte had to hope, though, that they found that little girl by the time her "trial period" came to an end. It would make her feel terrible if she had to leave without knowing what happened to her.

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **I know this chapter is shorter compared to the others, but hopefully you guys liked it. I'm happy you guys are liking Charlotte so far; I was hoping I was making her character a least somewhat realistic.**

 **Nothing in TWD universe belongs to me.**

 **I've heard that the second episode of season 7 is supposed to be a "funny" episode, which I'm not too sure of.**

 **Anywho...**

Guest: _I have to say, your review was really a lot to take in! You had a lot of good points and suggestions. I do have to agree with your predictable-OC mention; I haven't read a_ _lot_ _of TWD stories, but I have read some—especially Daryl/OC pairings—where there's an_ _immediate_ _attraction between the two and the OC manages to find some weapon—like a crossbow or something like that—that would seem a little difficult to find during "the end of the world". One of those stories isn't badly written, but it does get a little...I don't know, repetitive...to read stories like that—or with other pairings, not just Daryl/OC_ _—even if it is a decently written story. And I know that at this point where it's pretty early into the series, Rick and his people haven't come across any bad people, they just escaped the CDC and everything, but I kinda had an idea where they were still so shaken up, angry, etc., over knowing the CDC was a failure, that they couldn't help but react the way they did. I have to admit, too, that your suggestions are really good; I'll keep them in consideration._

Alibird1: _I'm hoping to go into Charlotte's background a little more as the story progresses. I'm happy you liked her little talk she had with Carl; I know that since it's so early in the second season and the main characters haven't come across any "threats" yet, but I was hoping Charlotte could instill a little "don't trust anyone" advice into Carl._

11shunter: _I'm happy Charlotte doesn't seem predictable to you. I hope I can keep that up for the rest of the story. I know it's not really focusing on the canonical storyline_ (I mean, it sort of is, but only as mentions) _, but I'll be sure to have my own twist on the storyline the further I go into writing it._

Bluemom: _Thank you for liking the story so far, hopefully it still strikes your interest._

MulishaMaiden: _I'm glad you liked the start of the story! Hopefully I can keep the story interesting enough for you and other reviewers to keep reading._

 **Thank you to the ones who've reviewed, favorited, and followed this story. It means a lot to me that you're so interested in the story. If you've got ideas for OCs or subplots you'd like to have added into the story, leave a review or PM me. I'm more than happy to add an OC or write in a subplot you suggest.**

 **Leave a thought on anything I can improve on.**

 **Sincerely,**

 **Alek Haydn**


	7. Chapter 7

_"People want to blame all the world's problems on some single enemy they can fight; instead of a complex network of interrelated forces beyond anyone's control."_ -Pearl; **Steven Universe**

* * *

By the time the sun was relatively low in the sky, Rick and Daryl—which Charlotte felt a tiny bit of relief that she could put a name to his face—came back, they had an indescribable look on their faces. Daryl's crossbow was slung over his shoulder; both men looked pretty filthy; dirt, mud, and what looked like blood were smeared on their clothes and arms.

Carol, who didn't move from her spot at the edge of the driveway, looked between Rick and Daryl worriedly. Sophia hadn't come back with them. "You didn't find her?" she exclaimed, her voice trembling.

"Her trail went cold," Rick said softly, looking at Carol with a hint of concern in his eyes. "We'll pick it up at first light."

Charlotte closed her eyes for a moment, trying to get herself under control. She wanted to know that Sophia came back safely, but she also knew that she could only do so much.

"You can't leave my daughter out there on her own," Carol said, her voice not going above a trembling whisper, "to spend the night, alone, in the woods."

Daryl took a hesitant step forward. "The dark's no good," he said softly. "We'd just be trippin' over ourselves. More people get lost."

"But she's just twelve," Carol begged. "She can't be out there on her own! You didn't find anything?"

Rick held his hands up in almost surrender. "I know this is hard, but I'm asking you not to panic," he said. "We know she was out there."

"And we tracked her for a while," Daryl added.

Even though Charlotte didn't really want to get _too_ involved in the business of finding Sophia, she knew that Carol needed the comfort. The woman was beyond distraught; her daughter was lost in the woods, the sun was falling, and who knows how many rotters were out there—Charlotte couldn't help _but_ feel bad for her. Taking hesitant steps toward Carol, Charlotte put a reluctant hand on Carol's shoulder. It was the only form of comfort she could think of at the moment. It felt as if any form of comfort going toward Sophia's wellbeing was being overused.

"We have to make an organized effort," Rick continued. "Daryl knows the woods better than anybody. I've asked him to oversee this."

There was a moment of silence that hung over the group heavily. They were trying to process what Rick and Daryl had said. Charlotte's gaze went to the two men before going back to Carol, who sat there silently for a moment before her gaze went to Daryl's clothes and how bloodied they looked.

"I-Is that blood?" Carol's voice was trembling almost violently; her skin paled significantly. In no time at all, Carol started hyperventilating.

Wasting no time at all, Charlotte had herself kneeling in front of Carol, gripping the older woman's shoulders carefully. "Hey, it's fine," she whispered, giving Carol's shoulders a reassuring squeeze. "Don't worry, OK? It's fine, they've got this."

Carol's hands went over her mouth, as if to stifle herself from making any noise.

"We took down a walker," Rick exclaimed. "There was no sign it was anywhere near Sophia."

"How do you know?" the blonde woman exclaimed. It had been the first time Charlotte heard her speak.

"We cut the son of a bitch open," Daryl said. "Made sure."

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

In no time at all, Charlotte went back to keeping her distance in the group's conflicts. Carol had tried telling Rick and Daryl that they shouldn't have left Sophia in the woods, but there was nothing for them to do with the rotters after them. In Charlotte's case, she was going to make sure she stayed out of the way and try and distract herself with organizing her belongings.

Then she reminded herself she'd have to check on T-Dog soon.

Charlotte rarely heard a peep from Dale _or_ T-Dog since she checked on them last, and that had her a little worried.

Once Charlotte had her backpack organized, she went to go find T-Dog and Dale. When she did find them, they were standing up, getting ready to go somewhere else. "It's getting close to sundown," Dale explained. "I don't want him out in this condition."

"That's a good idea," she said. "I can check on your wound in the motorhome; is that OK?"

Dale shook his head. "You don't need to ask me," he exclaimed. "He needs the treatment."

"I'll take him," Charlotte said; she wrapped an arm around T-Dog's shoulders. "You go on ahead."

Though there was some hesitance on Dale's part, he went on ahead.

"I don't know...if I thanked you or not." T-Dog's voice sounded almost slurred, and that made Charlotte's stomach clench.

"You don't need to thank me."

T-Dog scoffed. "Too bad you're leaving," he mumbled.

"If I do leave, I'll give Rick enough medication to treat you." Charlotte hoped she sounded convincing enough. "I haven't made a decision yet."

When they made it to Dale's motorhome, Charlotte helped T-Dog in before sitting him down in the nearest seat. Putting her backpack down, she unzipped it and started digging through her medicine bag. She could hear T-Dog breathing rather heavily from where he said, and when she took the time to look up at him, his eyes were closed and he was almost cradling his injured arm close to him. The gauze was soaked in blood again, but it didn't seem as bad as before.

Sighing, Charlotte took out her medicine bag and took out some more gauze. She paused for a moment when she heard footsteps near the entrance of the motorhome. Looking over, she saw Rick standing there.

"He got hurt," she said. "Dale asked me to help."

"Thank you," he sighed. There was an exhaustion in Rick's eyes, his voice sounding equally as tired. "I appreciate you doing this."

"Don't thank me yet," she said. "He needs stitches and he's already lost a significant amount of blood. The best I can do is bandage him up and give him some disinfectant. Maybe some painkillers, but they're not working, apparently."

Rick didn't say anything for a moment. "Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked, his voice sounding hoarse.

"Unless you know where I can find a needle and thread, no." Charlotte looked at him with a solemn frown. "You've got your hands tied, Rick. Finding that little girl is top priority."

Nodding, he rubbed his face and let out a sigh. "When we find her, and if you choose to stay, would you be able to do an examination?" he asked, trying not to sound defeated.

Charlotte thought it over. "If I choose to stay, and _if_ you find her, then yeah; I will," she responded. Rick's eyes hardened. "I know it hasn't been that long since she ran off, but keep all possibilities open. You may have taken down some rotters who were probably on her trail, but anything can happen out there. Rotters aren't the only threats."

A flicker of something quickly flashed in Rick's eyes for a moment before he nodded wordlessly. Giving one last nod, Rick turned and left the motorhome.

Rick may be a nice guy, but he didn't have a full understanding on how things worked. That almost broke Charlotte's heart.

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **I know it took a bit to have this chapter put up, but here it is! Sorry if it's poorly written, I tried writing it the best I could. Let me know what you think.**

 **Nothing in TWD is mine.**

 **Leave a thought on anything I can improve on.**

 **Sincerely,**

 **Alek Haydn**


	8. Chapter 8

_"Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, and, above all, those who live without love."_ -Albus Dumbledore; **Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows**

* * *

Night had fallen and Charlotte found herself unable to sleep. Dale's motorhome filled with enough people who'd manage to find room to sleep. Charlotte decided to leave before it got too crowded, mumbling how uncomfortable she got in small, enclosed spaces. Dale tried convincing her to stay in the motorhome, just to stay safe from rotters and other threats, but Charlotte managed to convince him—though he was reluctant to agree—that she'd be a little more comfortable outside, where she'd have more leg-room.

Sighing, Charlotte leaned against the side of the motorhome. That was where she was residing for the night. Everyone else had either pitched a tent or, as mentioned, went into Dale's motorhome. Before it had gotten too dark, Daryl had managed to find some squirrels and one rabbit that ended up being everyone's dinner for the night. Charlotte wasn't that good when it came to hunting—she'd attempted to do so even _before_ the outbreak and she wasn't good at it _(mostly because she couldn't bring herself to kill an animal)_ —so she relied on whatever canned goods she could find. That and what little knowledge she had on plant-life—which berries were poisonous and what others weren't. Though Charlotte was more than willing not to go hunting for berries if she had little to no knowledge on if they'd kill her or not.

A slight breeze blew past, causing Charlotte to shiver slightly.

The one thing she wished she had taken out of Dale's motorhome was a blanket.

 _You'll be fine for one night,_ she tried reassuring herself. Even though the whole ordeal going down with Rick's group and Sophia going missing, there was a miniscule part of Charlotte's mind that was ridiculing her for even _thinking_ it was a good idea to give the small group a chance. She should've done the trade earlier and been on her way.

 _You'd have more food and you could've found a place to stay for the night. Who could've asked for more?_

 _But you'd also have less medical supplies. What if you got injured and needed something you traded for canned goods? Not to mention they told you Atlanta's overrun._

But Charlotte also needed to keep in mind that there was the possibility of them lying. She didn't know what they knew; they could very well be playing her off as someone who's gullible, who'd listen to every word they spoke as if it were true. Charlotte knew better than to do so, but she was willing to give them the benefit of the doubt. If Atlanta was truly overrun with rotters, she wasn't going in. But if she chose not to follow Rick and his people to wherever they could _possibly_ be going once the Sophia ordeal blows over, then she'd check out Atlanta for herself.

Drawing her legs up, Charlotte wrapped her arms around them, trying to keep herself warm. The occasional rustling in the nearby woods would catch her attention, unintentionally making her head snap in the direction of the noise. In the time she'd spent on her own, Charlotte had become a bit paranoid when it came to sounds she couldn't identify. The sound of a twig snapping? Probably a rotter; or maybe it was a living person looking to rob her and God knows what else. A strange sound echoed from somewhere in the distance? Someone could've died trying to defend themselves. But if there was one sound Charlotte knew she would _never_ forget, it would be the sound of a rotter eating a body. It didn't matter if it was a human body or an animal body, the sound was still disturbing and disgusting. The smell of the blood would linger in the air, mixing with the smell of the rotter _(or rotters)_.

The first time Charlotte saw a rotter eating a dead body—the first time she _heard_ it—she had to run off and vomit. Thankfully, she hadn't been followed; but it made her sick nonetheless. Gavin had mocked her, calling her all kinds of unsavory names. She'd been embarrassed at first, but after killing Gavin, she learned to accept that she'd never get over her disgust of the sound.

"I thought you were sleeping." A figure came from one of the tents. It was Rick. He looked a little disheveled, but other than that, fine.

"I thought I'd keep watch."

"Shane's doing that."

It was true. Shane—the man with the rifle, who'd escorted Glenn and Charlotte to look for parts for Dale's motorhome—had been not only sitting atop Dale's motorhome, looking for rotters, but slowly and quietly walking around camp to make sure everything was fine. He'd made eye-contact with Charlotte on occasion, but she made no attempt to interact with him. Something about Shane made her nervous, and she wasn't going to risk anything on him. It was much to Charlotte's relief when Shane decided to stay on Dale's motorhome for the remainder of his watch.

"I know," Charlotte responded.

"Why don't you try getting some rest?"

Charlotte shrugged. "Some nights I can't sleep," she said. "It's hard to." She looked up at him. "Why're you up?"

"I was going to relieve Shane for a little while," he said.

Nodding, Charlotte brought her legs closer to her. "I wish you a good watch, then."

There was a moment of heavy silence between them. Charlotte had turned her gaze away from Rick, but she could still feel him looking at her. "Look," he sighed, "I know these aren't the best circumstances, but at least try and sleep. You need your strength."

Charlotte didn't say anything, not for a couple seconds. She knew Rick had a point; the less she spent sleeping, the weaker she'd get. Weakness got people killed. Looking at him for the briefest moment, Charlotte let out a sigh and a slight nod.

"Thank you."

She didn't respond. Instead, and using her backpack as a pillow, Charlotte laid down and tried forcing herself to sleep.

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

A hand on Charlotte's shoulder jolted her out of her slumber. She'd drifted in and out of sleep since her little discussion with Rick the night before. There was still the exhaustion that clogged her mind, but she wasn't _as_ exhausted as she thought she'd be.

"Whoa." It was a woman's voice. Blinking a few times, Charlotte's gaze found the face of the skinny, black-haired woman. The woman looked startled; it wasn't until Charlotte realized she was gripping one of her knives in her hands that she understood the woman's expression.

"Sorry," Charlotte mumbled.

"No, it's fine." The woman tried for a smile. " _I'm_ sorry. I startled you."

Rubbing her eyes, Charlotte put her knife away before sighing. "Is it early or late?" she mumbled.

"Probably a little after eight."

Charlotte cursed a little under her breath. "Late."

"Dale has a watch, if you wanna know the time." The black-haired woman stood up, holding out her hand.

Charlotte shook her head. "I don't care much for time anymore," she said, hesitantly accepting the hand. "But at the same time, it's more important to me than anything else."

"How long have you been by yourself?"

"Can't say." Charlotte shrugged. "Could've been a few weeks; could've been a few months."

Silence.

"Well, uhm, Rick's wanting all of us."

"For what?"

"To help find Sophia."

Charlotte's gaze dropped.

"I understand this isn't any of your business, but we could use all the help we can get." Charlotte nodded wordlessly. "I'm Lori, by the way. I'm Rick's wife."

Studying Lori carefully, Charlotte gave a slight nod. When Lori was out of Charlotte's eyesight, she let out a sigh.

 _Lord help that little girl,_ she thought solemnly.

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **Sorry for the delay on this chapter, but I got sidetracked by responsibilities. I had a midterm I had to study for and my job has been a bit of a hassle. But I hope you've been enjoying the chapters so far. Let me know what you think.**

 **TWD is not mine.**

 **What did you guys think of last Sunday's episode? I don't know how I feel about Ezekiel; though I have a slight suspicion that there might be an Ezekiel/Carol romance. I could be wrong and misinterpreting it, but there's still the possibility. I know she had a relationship with one of the guys back at Alexandria, but given that at this point it probably doesn't really matter anymore, I guess the writers/producers/etc. can do what they please with Carol's character. The one thing I liked, though, was how Ezekiel's men were giving the Saviors tainted pig meat. I don't know. That's just me.**

 **Leave a thought on anything I can improve on.**

 **Sincerely,**

 **Alek Haydn**


	9. Chapter 9

_"You still wake up sometimes, don't you? You wake up in the dark and hear the screaming of the lambs."_ -Hannibal Lecter; **The Silence of the Lambs**

* * *

Strolling over to the front of Dale's motorhome, she saw the small group huddled over where a pack of weapons had been laid out on the hood of the vehicle. Rick was dressed in a sheriff outfit, looking at everyone expectantly.

"Everybody takes a weapon," he explained. His gaze went to Charlotte for a moment, who seemed rather uninterested in what was in front of her.

"These aren't the kinds of weapons we _need_." The blonde woman Charlotte noticed the day before, who'd been introduced by Glenn as Andrea, looked at Rick as if he'd grown a second head. "What about the guns?"

"We've been over that," Shane explained. "Daryl, Rick, and I are carrying. We can't have people popping off rounds every time a tree rustles."

Charlotte recalled, the night before, how Rick explained that for the continuation of Sophia's search, only himself, Shane, and Daryl would be allowed to carry firearms of some sort. In a way, Charlotte could understand why Rick would only allow specific people to carry some form of firearm—from the looks of it, while the group seemed to have some sort of basic understanding when it came to weaponry, they weren't _good_ when it came to weaponry. Having some form of gun, which they probably wouldn't know how to fire, would make matters worse, in Charlotte's opinion. While she was no genius when it came to guns or things of that sort, she knew better than to go around waving a gun at anything that moved and wasting bullets. Bullets were a necessity, a rarity. Guns were useful, but only in very dire situation. That was something she reminded herself often.

"If I may," Charlotte added, "why not give shooting lessons?"

"Where?" Andrea exclaimed. "Besides, it would only attract walkers."

"Find somewhere secluded," Charlotte suggested. "Maybe an open field or something. Throw targets out and practice."

"It's not a bad idea," Glenn said. "It's _risky_ , but it's not that bad."

"We'd be lucky to _find_ a place like that," Shane put in; glancing over at Charlotte for a moment.

"It was a suggestion." Shrugging nonchalantly, Charlotte crossed her arms over her chest. "Whether you do it or not is up to you."

There was a moment of silence that hung around the group.

After what felt like a lifetime of silence, Rick broke it, asking Daryl what the plan would be for finding Sophia.

"The idea is to take the creek up about five miles," Daryl explained, "turn around and come back down the other side. Chances are she'll be by the creek. It's her only landmark."

"Stay quiet," Rick advised, "and stay sharp. Keep space between you, but always stay within sight of each other."

When Shane ordered everyone to get their belongings together, Charlotte took notice to T-Dog, who was standing a ways behind the others. She walked over to him. "You OK?" she murmured.

"Doesn't hurt that much anymore," he mumbled.

Charlotte took notice to how his eyes weren't as glazed over as they were the previous day, but there was still a bit of distance in his gaze. The gauze she had applied to his wound the previous night was soaked in blood, some of it crusting around the edges on his skin. Pulling her backpack off one shoulder, she quickly unzipped it and pulled out her medical kit.

"I won't have enough time to apply any medication on your wound," she said, "or change the bandages, but..." She turned and saw Rick and the others leaving Dale. Rick turned and looked at her; she held a hand up, indicating to wait a moment longer. "Be careful, OK?" she murmured to T-Dog. He nodded. She approached Dale. "Hey, I know I should've been up earlier to check on T-Dog, but I gotta go."

"I understand," Dale said. "I'm staying, to fix up the RV."

Nodding, Charlotte dug through her medical kit, pulling out gauze, wrapping, some disinfectant, and two bottles of pills. "He's bled through his bandage from last night," she said, "and this is all I've got left. After taking the bandage off, you can use the disinfectant to clean around the wound if you want, but I'd suggest just pouring some on a new bandage and wrapping it up." Dale nodded slowly, looking a little unsure. "These are pills to help with his temperature and any swelling he may have. _This_ one handles swelling; _this_ one handles temperature." She pointed to the bottles as she said it. "He only needs one of each; two if it looks really bad, but hopefully it won't get there."

"What's takin' so long?" Daryl exclaimed, sending a heated look Charlotte's way.

Returning the look, Charlotte turned back to Dale. "I gotta go," she said.

"It's fine." Dale took the supplies and nodded. "Thank you."

"You two be safe, OK?" she said.

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

The journey into the woods was relatively quiet. Rick made sure everyone stayed within eyeshot of each other while Daryl made sure everyone stayed quiet. The two men were further front, checking the creek and the surrounding area for rotters and Sophia. No one uttered a word, keeping their belongings close and any weapons they had closer.

Charlotte walked with Glenn, finding a bit of comfort with him. There was something about him that Charlotte found...genuine. While a majority of her mind was screaming at her to be wary of him, to keep him at a distance, she couldn't help but think he was a good man. He seemed to be nice, at least. He hadn't shown any hostility toward Charlotte—unlike Daryl _(Charlotte knew that the huntsman was probably just worried about finding Sophia, but there was a hotheadedness about him that she found displeasing)_ —and it looked like Glenn held onto his humanity dearly.

If she chose to leave by the end of her day, she prayed that Glenn still managed to hold onto that.

After trekking further into the woods, Rick abruptly turned and motioned everyone to stop and kneel. Daryl was poking his head out from behind a tree, his crossbow aimed at something. Looking from the underbrush, the group could clearly see a tent and a mess of paper and other garbage littered around it.

"She could be in there," Shane said.

"Could be a whole bunch of things in there," Daryl responded.

When the three men, with their guns and crossbow aimed, made their way over to the tent, Carol immediately stood up but was halted by Rick. Charlotte came up a little, having her knife ready in case something happened.

The further Shane, Rick, and Daryl went, the more unsettling it seemed to feel for the others. They all eventually stood up, trying to keep sight of them.

After a moment, Rick turned and pointed to Carol, motioning her to come toward them. Shane went back and escorted her over to where they stood; Daryl standing near the tent's entrance holding a hunter's knife. Charlotte and the others followed silently behind her.

"Call out softly," Rick said. "If she's in there, yours is the first voice she should hear."

"Sophia?" Carol called, her voice quiet and trembling. "Sweetie? Are you in there? Sophia, it's mommy. Sophia, we're all here, baby. It's mommy."

Rick and Shane walked over to where Daryl stood, anxiously and restlessly holding his knife up, waiting. When they started unzipping the tent, it felt as if the air was being sucked out of the area. When the opening was big enough for Daryl to go in, it felt as if time had slowed down. Rick tried poking his head in, but he quickly turned back and started coughing. Shane covered his face, trying to hold himself back from gagging.

Charlotte put a comforting hand on Carol's shoulder. When Daryl hadn't come out of the tent, the tension seemed to have gotten more heavy.

"Daryl?" Carol called.

He climbed out, looking a little pale but otherwise fine. "It ain't her," he said.

Charlotte put her arm around Carol's shoulders, trying to bring her some comfort. Carol leaned into the embrace, trying to keep her emotions in check. "What's in there?" she asked.

"Some guy," Daryl said. "Opted out. Ain't that what it's called?"

Before anyone had a chance to respond, a sound, sounding almost like bells, echoed from the distance.

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **Sorry for the delay in this chapter, but hopefully you guys like it. If you thought it was too similar to the episode, let me know.**

 **TWD isn't mine.**

 **If you've got suggestions for subplots or OCs you'd like to see written into the story, review or PM me. I'd be more than willing to add an OC or a subplot, if that's what you want. I've gotten one review from a Guest saying how certain events can go down with Charlotte and Rick's group** **—i.e. when Carl gets shot, the whole ordeal that goes down with Shane and Otis, etc. If any of you have ideas on anything for future chapters, don't hesitate to let me know.**

 **Leave a thought on anything I can improve on.**

 **Sincerely,**

 **Alek Haydn**


	10. Chapter 10

_"No matter what people tell you, words and ideas can change the world."_ -Robin Williams

* * *

The further down they ran, the louder the bells became; and, in that moment, when the sound was more defined, they realized it was church bells making the noise.

"What direction?" Shane panted.

"I think that direction." Rick pointed in front of him. "I'm pretty sure."

"It's hard to tell out here," Charlotte exclaimed.

"If we heard them, maybe Sophia does, too." There was a hopefulness in Carol's voice as she said it.

"Someone's ringing those bells," Glenn said. "Maybe calling others."

The more they discussed the possibilities on who was ringing the bells, the quicker they ran through the woods; jumping over roots and dodging bushes. There was a hopeful restlessness in the air as they hurried over to where the bells were. The small group was hoping that Sophia managed to make it to the church. Even _Charlotte_ was starting to feel a _little_ hopeful.

By the time a clearing showed itself, the ringing had stopped. Coming to an almost skidding halt after barreling out of the woods, there was a moment where each person just looked around to see what they could find. It wasn't much; just a relatively average sized cemetery near a small, white church.

"That can't be it," Shane said. "Got no steeple, no bells."

"It came from here," Charlotte exclaimed. "Someone's doing something to make that noise happen."

Without so much as a word of acknowledgement, Rick ventured forward, easily maneuvering around the tombstones. Charlotte and the others followed him, Shane obviously annoyed by Rick's behavior. The way Charlotte saw it, she understood Rick's determination to find Sophia, but she could also understand Shane's annoyed demeanor when it came to Rick. While there was some importance in finding the little girl, Charlotte had to keep reminding herself that the chances of Sophia being found _alive_ were probably slim to none at this point. There's no telling what could have happened to her. It was awful thinking like that, but when things like that arise, keeping every possibility open is important.

In no time at all, Rick started sprinting; Shane right on his heels while the others stumbled to keep up.

The sprinting came to a slow stop when they all reached the front of the church. The white paint was chipped, it looked old and beat down, obviously abandoned. It didn't look big enough to hold more than a small handful of people at a time, and there was no way in hell it could protect anyone from oncoming threats. At least, that was what Charlotte thought.

Daryl, Shane, and Rick ran up the front steps of the church with their weapons ready. Charlotte and the others, waiting near the side of the stairs, had whatever weapons they had on them ready.

When the doors opened, and the three men took cautious steps inside, three rotters turned and looked at them from where they were seated on the pews. In a matter of seconds, Rick, Shane, and Daryl took the rotters down, blood spattering the floors and walls.

Once the rotters were taken down, it was obvious that no one else was in the church. It was too small, it would be easy to see anyone else in there. Rick called for Sophia, but he was stopped by Shane, the two men having a quiet argument.

Stepping inside, Charlotte's gaze slowly went around the church. It smelled like rotters and the thought of being back in a church made her visibly uncomfortable. When she was younger, Charlotte, her twin brother, Trevor, their younger brothers, and their parents would go to church every Sunday until the day Charlotte and Trevor were in high school. Davin, Charlotte's Irish father, had been a devout Roman Catholic for as long as Charlotte could remember; and while her mother, Alondra, was raised in the Orthodox Jewish tradition, she went to church on Sunday with her family. Catholicism hadn't been Alondra's belief system, but she was respectful of it anyway. It wasn't until Trevor and Charlotte entered high school that the Sunday gatherings for the Covingtons came to an end. Davin simply fell out of touch with his religion. Charlotte had, as well, years before her father did. She had grown up learning the Catholic and Jewish faiths, but she considered herself more agnostic than anything. Not attending church anymore didn't bother her at all.

Looking over to where a large figure of the crucified Jesus was hung up at the front, Charlotte's lips pursed.

 _It doesn't feel right,_ she thought solemnly, _being in here._

She could only imagine how uncomfortable countless other people must feel seeing a church. Since the outbreak, people have done unbelievable things in order to stay alive—many of which include murder of some form. Churches were probably terrifying to approach let alone see.

The ringing started again, startling the group. Daryl was out of the church before anyone had a chance to react. While everyone followed behind, they found Daryl looking at some wires leading up the wall and into a megaphone. Glenn disconnected the wires, causing the ringing to stop.

"A timer," Daryl sighed. "It's on a timer."

"I'm gonna go back in for a bit," Carol said.

Charlotte watched as Carol quietly, almost ashamedly, went back into the church. Everyone but Shane, Lori, and Andrea followed suit. Charlotte lingered outside for a moment, looking at the church doors almost anxiously before stepping inside. Leaning against the wall furthest to the door, she slid down and brought her knees up, hugging them close. Charlotte's gray eyes occasionally went over to where the statue of Jesus was, her heart clenching a little. Not being one to pray, Charlotte thought she'd at least give it a shot. Just once, while she had the chance.

 _God,_ she thought awkwardly, _or whoever's—_ _whatever's_ _—_ _up there, I don't know...I just hope my family is OK. Even if they're all dead, I hope it wasn't anything too bad. I hope they're still together, whatever's after this. Not as rotters; I wouldn't be able to stand knowing that. If there's an afterlife we go to when we die, I'd like to know they're all together._ Pausing for a moment, Charlotte took that little opening to feel the heaviness that weighed on her chest. _Look after Ashleigh,_ she went on. _Look after all of them for me._ Letting out a sigh, she closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall of the church. _Amen._

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **Hopefully you guys like this chapter! Let me know what you think of it, OK? That's the important thing. Also, let me know if it feels like I'm writing chapters too similarly to the show and I'll try and do my best to avoid doing so in the future.**

 **TWD isn't mine.**

 **If you've got ideas on subplots or OCs you'd like to see written into the story, don't hesitate to leave a review or PM me. I think it's important when the reviewers get creative with the story, too! But it's completely up to you guys on whether or not you'd like that to happen.**

 **Leave a thought on anything I can improve on.**

 **Sincerely,**

 **Alek Haydn**


	11. Chapter 11

_"Is there anything you would not do for your family?"_ -Khan; **Star Trek Into Darkness**

* * *

Charlotte spent a good two more minutes in the church, relaying what she _prayed_ for before she decided to leave. Being in the church, knowing there were dead rotters on the ground and blood spattered everywhere, Charlotte couldn't stand being in there a moment longer. Standing up, she silently walked out, barely regarding the others in there. She had faintly heard Carol's prayer to the Jesus statue at the front of the church—probably something regarding Sophia—but Charlotte couldn't bring herself to pay attention. As much as she would've liked to have found Sophia at any point during the day, the chances of the little girl being dead or worse were steadily becoming more and more of a reality than finding her alive.

When the humid Georgian air hit Charlotte, she felt herself become even heavier. The sun was starting to show how late in the day it was, how much time Rick, his people, and Charlotte _wasted_ at that goddamn church.

Finding a tree, Charlotte walked over to it, leaning against it in slight exhaustion. She was feeling more emotionally and mentally drained than any physical drainage.

"Are you OK?" Glenn approached Charlotte, looking a little worried. Nodding, she tried for a smile, but she was certain it came out as a grimace. Glenn's brows furrowed, his lips pursing.

"We've spent too much time here," Charlotte said after a moment's silence. "The day's wasting. Sooner or later, I'll have to make a decision." She looked at Glenn. "Besides, churches make me uncomfortable."

Glenn studied Charlotte for a moment before he nodded slowly, not entirely sure how he wanted to respond.

It was only a few minutes after she exited the church that Carol, Rick, Lori, and Carl exited, too. Neither of them said much, but it was obvious by the puffiness in Carol's eyes that she had been crying. Daryl eventually showed up not long after; Andrea sauntering up as well.

 _That poor woman._ The thought lingered in Charlotte's mind for a moment before fluttering off.

While the others came by the tree Charlotte and Glenn were under, Rick had started wandering off toward the edge of the cemetery, looking at the trees with a solemn look on his face. He was dedicated, convinced that Sophia could be found; Charlotte had to wonder whether or not he was aware of the growing possibilities on what could have _really_ happened to her. Had Sophia been bit? If so, had she turned? What if she got kidnapped, never to be seen again? Or just straight-up killed? As much as Charlotte found Rick's devotion to the search a little admirable, she couldn't help but also think how pointless it was. It was like watching a chicken with its head cut off.

 _Don't say anything,_ she reminded herself. _The least you can do is be respectful and do what you can. These people need this._

It would only be a few minutes of silence before Shane would saunter over, looking almost irritated. "Y'all gonna follow the creek bed back, OK?" he ordered. "Daryl, you're in charge. Me and Rick, we're just gonna hang back, search this area another hour or so just to be thorough."

"You're splitting us up," Daryl exclaimed. "You're sure?"

"Yeah, we'll catch up to you," Shane sighed.

"Charlotte, I know this is pushing it for you," Rick added, "but I do want to talk to you later on, OK?"

"You just read my mind, Rick." She flashed a forced smile.

"I want to stay, too," Carl said, stepping forward. "I'm her friend."

Lori walked up to her son, hugging him. "Just be careful, OK?"

"I will."

And that was that.

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

The trek back down the creek bed was long and silent. Charlotte made sure to stay aware of every noise she heard, the movements of the people around her, and he movements she thought she saw out of the corner of her eyes. Sure, she might be a little paranoid, but she had reasons to be. The world wasn't a friendly place—it barely was before. Taking a deep breath, she tried her best to keep her mind clear and her focus on what she needed to do, and that was to keep an eye out for anything that might resemble a lost little girl.

Charlotte was thankful that the heat was starting to die down a little. The sun was getting lower in the sky and the more nighttime critters were beginning to make their appearance. Insects chirped and the sounds of birds were starting to become more and more quiet. The shade of the trees felt nice with the cooling air. Nudging the straps of her backpack a little higher on her shoulders, Charlotte paid attention to how it felt. Heavy, but nothing she wasn't used to. It had everything she needed, minus the medicine she left with Dale for T-Dog. She took a split second to just gaze down at what she was wearing—old, bloodstained, dirt-stained, ripped blue jeans; a filthy, oversized t-shirt; tennis shoes that were just as worn out. Charlotte had gotten so used to what she was wearing that it hardly processed in her mind just how worn they were.

"So this is it?" Carol asked, breaking the small group's silence. "This the whole plan?" She sat herself down on a fallen tree, crossing her arms anxiously over her chest.

"I guess the plan is to whittle us down into smaller and smaller groups," Daryl mumbled.

"Seems like the best plan at the moment," Charlotte added. "To cover more ground." Removing her backpack, Charlotte unzipped it and took out a half-empty water bottle. Opening it, she took a long sip.

"We might as well be carrying knives and pointy sticks," Andrea said sarcastically. She looked over at Lori, who removed her backpack, as well. "I see you have a gun."

"Why?" Lori snapped. "You want it? Here, take it." She handed a gun Daryl had given her to Andrea. "I'm sick of the looks you're giving me. All of you," she sighed. Looking over at Carol, Lori's features softened slightly. "Honey, I can't imagine what you're going through. And I would do anything to stop it. But you have got to stop blaming Rick. It is in your face every time you look at him. When Sophia ran, he didn't hesitate, did he? Not for a second. I don't know that any of us would have gone after her the way he did, or make the hard decisions that he had to make, or that anybody could have done it any differently. Anybody?" Lori shook her head, taking out a water bottle from her backpack. "Y'all look to him and then you blame him when he's not perfect," she went on. "If you think you can do this without him, go right ahead. Nobody is stopping you."

"We should keep moving," Andrea murmured, handing back the gun.

They started walking again, not even making it three feet when a gunshot rang out.

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

Charlotte had been the first to react. She stopped, looking around to find out where the gunshot could have come from. It sounded relatively far, but still a little close at the same time. Lori was the next to do the same, stop and check.

Swallowing thickly, Charlotte bit her bottom lip. "That could've been Rick or Shane," she said.

Lori shook her head. "They wouldn't waste the bullets."

"You still worrying about it?" Andrea asked.

"Someone fired," Charlotte exclaimed.

"We all heard it," Daryl said.

"Why one?" Lori exclaimed. "Why just one gunshot?"

"Should we head back? See if we can find them?" Charlotte looked at Daryl. The two hadn't had much interaction since Charlotte stuck around, but Shane put Daryl in charge, so whatever he said would go.

Shaking his head, Daryl let out a sigh. "Can't afford it now," he sighed.

"Shouldn't they have caught up by now?" Carol asked.

"There's nothing we can do about it anyway," Daryl exclaimed. "Can't run around these woods chasing echoes."

"So what do we do?" Lori asked.

Daryl threw a look Lori's way. "Same as we've been," he sighed. "Beat the bush for Sophia, work our way back to the highway."

"I'm sure they'll hook up with us back at the RV," Andrea comforted.

Charlotte watched as the others started walking. She hesitated, looking back to where the gunshot had echoed. What if it _had_ been Rick or Shane? Wasn't Lori worried about the possibility of something happening to them or her son? Sighing, she followed after them.

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

The walking continued without much trouble. There was still the lingering tension of the gunshot, of the thoughts about something happening to Rick or Shane—it felt like the tensions were getting thicker. With the search for Sophia still going on, the group tried keeping that as their top priority. No one talked, just listened—very carefully—and kept a very close eye on their surroundings.

"We'll lose the light before too long," Daryl sighed. "I think we should call it."

"Let's head back," Charlotte said.

"We'll pick it up again tomorrow?" Carol asked.

Charlotte looked at her, trying to not look so conflicted. "Of course."

They turned and started heading back to the highway. Before they could get too far, a shrill scream echoed nearby, and everyone turned to see Andrea on the ground, a rotter grabbing at her, being shoved back by her feet. Charlotte had her knife out right as the others got their weapons ready; but before any of them had a chance to move from their spots, the rotter had been knocked onto the ground. A woman on a horse, holding a bat in one hand while trying to balance the reins of the horse she was riding and one that was accompanying her, looking at the group with wide eyes. "Lori Grimes?" she asked. "Charlotte Covington?"

Lori ran forward. "I'm Lori."

"I'm Charlotte."

"Rick sent me," the woman explained rapidly, "you've got to come now."

"What?" Charlotte sputtered.

"There's been an accident. Carl's been shot. He's still alive, but you two need to come now." Charlotte and Lori stood there dumbfounded, looking at the woman before looking at each other. "Rick needs you," the woman exclaimed. "Just come!"

Lori dropped her backpack before rushing over to the woman. Charlotte kept hers on, following right behind Lori. While Lori jumped on the same horse the woman was on, Charlotte jumped onto the extra one.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Daryl cried. "We don't know this girl! You can't get on those horses."

"Rick said you had others on the highway?" the woman asked. "That big traffic snarl?"

Glenn, who'd been looking at the woman quietly the entire time, nodded wordlessly.

"Backtrack to Fairburn road," she instructed, "two miles down is our farm. You'll see the mailbox! The name is 'Greene'!"

And just like that, they were off.

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **Sorry it took so long to post this chapter, but I had homework I needed to finish first. Other than that, I hope you enjoy this upload. Carl's been shot and Maggie's been introduced. We all know how this season goes down, but there are going to be a few changes to how season 2 happens. Thanks to a Guest reviewer, who left a very long and well thought out suggestion on how things could be altered and I will be applying some of those changes to how I write season 2 into this story. Hopefully I can write it in a way that makes sense. If there was any confusion on this chapter, or if it seemed too similar to the episode, I do apologize for that.**

 **TWD isn't mine.**

 **So, apparently, Scott Gimple, who helps with TWD television series, says that a possible movie adaptation of the series could happen "one day". While the thought of TWD becoming a movie sounds interesting, I'm going to assume this is a rumor. If it is true, I would be interested in how they could condense everything that's been in the show and comics into a single movie or a series of movies. I'm happy with how the franchise is going so far, both as a television series and a comic series, but if it's made into a movie of some sort, I would watch it and hopefully it would be well-written _(and hopefully with the same cast as the show [as well as those from previous seasons] but I know it's probably unlikely, if it were to happen)_. But, like I mentioned, I'm going to assume it's a rumor. What do you think?**

 **Leave a thought on anything I can improve on.**

 **Sincerely,**

 **Alek Haydn**


	12. Chapter 12

_"The ability to have a choice in what you do is a privilege."_ -Anton Yelchin

* * *

The adrenaline pounding in Charlotte's body mimicked the pounding of the horse's hooves as she followed the woman and Lori to the mentioned farm. Charlotte prayed—which may seem a little bad, the more she thought about it—that it was true Carl got shot and they weren't being led into some kind of trap. Gripping the reins tighter, Charlotte felt as if she couldn't breathe for a second, as if everything was spinning.

 _Now is not the time to be freaking out,_ she mentally exclaimed. _Carl could've gotten shot! Keep it together._

The surrounding trees started to thin out the further they went, and Charlotte noticed an opening not too far ahead. She sort of heard Lori say something, but she couldn't hear what. When they got closer to the opening, the woman Lori was with slowed down a little to be at the same pace as Charlotte.

"Rick said you were a nurse?" the woman asked.

"Not officially, but I know some things on medicine."

The woman nodded. "You could help my dad with Carl," she exclaimed. "My friend, Otis, was the one who shot Carl. It was a hunting accident."

"How could it be an accident?" Charlotte's brows furrowed together.

"There was a deer," she explained, "Otis shot at it, the bullet went right through. My dad said the deer slowed down the bullet's impact, but it broke into fragments."

Charlotte's gaze lowered for a moment. She knew she'd have to figure out something quick if she were expected to help the woman's father with Carl. "How many fragments?"

"Six."

"How can your father know for sure?"

"He's seen things like this before."

"We can explain more when we get there."

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

The farm itself was more than Charlotte could've imagined. The land itself looked completely untouched by rotters or other living people. It looked completely isolated from the rest of the world. There were fences, a barn that poked out around the back of the main house, a large field, and a sort of peacefulness about it.

 _This_ _is a amazing,_ she thought.

The sun, which had gone down even more, made the scenery look even more beautiful. It was a shame, Charlotte realized, that the place was so beautiful—nothing seemed to maintain something like that for very long. When the horses jumped a barbed-wire fence halfway to the main house, Charlotte tried getting her horse to go a little faster. She could make out two figures on the porch of the house, one of them being Rick, the closer she inspected; the other was an older man, an almost grandfatherly kind of guy.

Charlotte jumped off the horse once it started slowing down. When she came up to the porch, she turned for a moment to see the woman trying to slow down her horse and the one Charlotte had gotten off of. She turned back to Rick, his shirt covered in blood and sweat; his arms and parts of his face bloodied. Rick paid Charlotte little attention, going, instead, to his wife.

"What happened?" Charlotte asked, looking at the older man.

"A gunshot wound," he explained, a heavy Southern accent lacing his words. "I managed to get one of the bullet fragments out, but five are still remaining. They're too deep for me to get out. Rick's friend and my man, Otis, are going to be retrieving supplies for a surgery."

Swallowing thickly, and giving a silent nod, Charlotte tried processing it. She tried remembering anything she'd been taught about surgeries or how to help the victim prepare for it. Her mind was scrambled, going in too many directions at once. "How much blood has he lost?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

"A lot." The older man let out a sigh, looking over a Rick. "Rick's been providing blood."

Following his gaze, Charlotte noticed the bandage on the inside of Rick's arm. It was coated in blood. She pursed her lips. "I can give Carl blood for the meantime," she said. "I'm O-negative, I can do it."

The man studied Charlotte for a long moment, as if trying to assess the situation. Rick already looked too frazzled, too overwhelmed; the least Charlotte could do was give him the proper rest he'd need.

"If that's what you want."

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

"Charlotte, I can't ask you to do that." Rick looked at her warily, which made Charlotte's expression turn into a scowl.

"You brought me here to help your son, right?" she asked. He nodded. "This is how I can help him. Shane and Otis are about to leave to get the supplies, you can go with them."

Rick shook his head, rubbing his forehead with the back of one of his hands. "I-I can't," he stammered. "If something happens to him..."

" _Nothing_ will happen." Charlotte's voice was sharp, unwavering. She knew Rick would be worried; she didn't doubt it for a second. But she wanted him to understand that nothing would happen to Carl. "Listen to me, Rick," she pressed, "I'll help take care of Carl. I'll give him blood when it's needed, I'll help check his vitals. I was gonna be a nurse, remember? Let me do this."

Tears were trembling in Rick's eyes, threatening to fall. He looked so heartbroken, so conflicted in what he wanted to do. He nodded, running a hand through his hair.

"Keep him safe," he whispered.

"I will." She tried for a smile. "Go, I take it Shane and Otis are about ready to leave."

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

The older man, who introduced himself as Hershel, got Charlotte prepared to give Carl some blood. He made sure she was hydrated beforehand, since he couldn't afford to have her pass out. Charlotte always praised herself for being able to handle blood and needles, but for some reason, there was something inside her that made her uncomfortable at the sight of the needle being poked into her arm, or the blood that was on the bandage on Carl's stomach. Maybe it was because it was a child that made her feel so uncomfortable. Charlotte knew that when she became a nurse, she'd have to deal with children in all kinds of injuries; but for some reason, actually _seeing_ it—with it being the apocalypse and all—made her feel even worse.

Watching her blood go down the small plastic tube leading to where it connected to Carl kept Charlotte's mind occupied for a moment. She didn't want to think of the severity of the situation, at least not entirely. She nestled into the seat Otis' wife, Patricia, offered, trying to get comfortable and think of something other than what was going on around her. Thankfully, Charlotte's mind did start to wander a bit. She started thinking about her hometown in Virginia, her family, where she went to school—all the mundane things that were her old routines. She remembered Trevor's wedding, being there to hold Ashleigh after she had been born. Needless to say, Charlotte had been ecstatic to know she was going to be an aunt.

 _"I can already tell you'll spoil her rotten,"_ Trevor had laughed.

 _"Well, someone has to."_

The conversation had been playful, but it was also true. Charlotte _adored_ her niece; she would've given her the moon if Ashleigh asked for it.

Maybe that was why Charlotte was feeling so uncomfortable with seeing Carl the way he was. Maybe she was envisioning Ashleigh in his place _(given the off chance she might be alive)_. Closing her eyes, Charlotte tried pushing the thoughts out of her head. She had to keep herself relaxed; for Carl's sake and for Rick.

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **This chapter isn't as long as the previous one, but hopefully it's still as interesting. Let me know what you think of it, OK?**

 **TWD isn't mine.**

 **So, I guess the Whisperers might be introduced early! At least, that's a rumor I've been hearing. I know I mentioned the whole TWD becoming a movie thing in the last author's note, but I have been hearing about fans talking about how there are Easter eggs of the Whisperers being added into s7, but I don't know if I can see that happening. Whether it be Tweets from the producers of the show or just people going back to previous seasons _(or re-watching trailers to see if they missed anything)_ , there are people theorizing that Alpha and her crew will make an appearance in season 7. In all honesty, with Negan still being a relatively new character in the show, I think it's going to be a while until Alpha and her people are introduced. Having the Whisperers and Negan crammed into one season will be overwhelming. Not to mention all the other new characters that were introduced into s7. With Ezekiel just being introduced not too long ago, and the unknown on what happened to Maggie's baby, and how she and Sasha are recovering from witnessing Abraham and Glenn get killed, I think it'd be best to say that the Whisperers are possibly going to be introduced in later seasons. Maybe season 8, if Negan's been handled by then. Which seems unlikely. I don't know. I'm being an over-analytical nerd again.**

 **Leave a thought on anything I can improve on.**

 **Sincerely,**

 **Alek Haydn**


	13. Chapter 13

_"Like, when I step outside myself kinda, and when I...when I look at myself, you know? And I see me and I don't like what I see, I really don't."_ -Brian; **The Breakfast Club**

* * *

 _"You've been acting a little off lately," Gavin said. It was only a week after Charlotte came back from Virginia, and she did feel a little different. The news of an unspecified virus spreading across the country had been the hot topic for a majority of Charlotte's stay, and while she did enjoy seeing her family for the first time in years, she couldn't help but feel a little uncomfortable with the virus being brought up so frequently. Trevor voiced his concerns on having Ashleigh go to school, if the virus was as dangerous as it was being made out to be._

 _"I'm just a little tired." Charlotte tried for a smile, but she was certain it wasn't convincing enough. The two were in their bedroom, just relaxing._

 _Throwing a look her way, Gavin rolled his eyes. "You're a terrible liar, Charlie," he exclaimed._

 _"I'm_ not _lying!" she exclaimed. "I'm tired, OK? What more do you want me to say?"_

 _Scoffing, Gavin walked away._

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

 _Charlotte and Gavin had been dating for a total of three years. They had gone to high school together, with Gavin moving with Charlotte to Tennessee when she got accepted into nursing school. The relationship itself had its ups and downs—granted, there were more downs than ups_ _—but they managed to work it out for as long as they had. Charlotte's family didn't entirely care for Gavin all that much, but they at least tried to make him feel welcome. But as time progressed in the relationship, the more it felt as if it were starting to fall apart. Charlotte and Gavin never really seemed to agree on anything, the further their relationship seemed to develop, the more they seemed to realize just how_ different _they were becoming. But that didn't mean Charlotte didn't see hope for them. She_ desperately _wanted the relationship to work; they had been together for_ three years _, the longest relationship she'd ever been in._

 _From the time she'd been in high school, to the point where she started dating Gavin, Charlotte had only been in a small handful of relationships in her life_ _—over half of them barely made it over a year._

 _Being with Gavin was so important to her, she wanted to believe there was a possible future for them. While she knew it seemed almost childish to think ahead like that, Charlotte couldn't help it. Part of her really loved Gavin._

 _"You've been awfully quiet."_

 _Snapping out of her thoughts, Charlotte's attention went to her friend, Rayna. The two became close friends at their nursing school, and when Rayna called and asked if Charlotte wanted to hang out, she couldn't refuse. "I've had a lot on my mind lately," she sighed._

 _"Did something happen with your family?"_

 _Shaking her head, Charlotte let out an exhausted sigh. "It's Gavin," she said. "I guess he wasn't happy that I wasn't_ talking _to him or something."_

 _Rayna's face scrunched up into a tiny scowl. "You know how I feel about him, Charlie," she stated._

 _"I know." There was a sharpness in Charlotte's voice, irritation hidden just beneath the words. "God, you sound like my parents."_

 _"And they may be right," Rayna exclaimed. "Yeah, you love Gavin, but he's kind of a douche most of the time."_

 _Biting her bottom lip, Charlotte looked at her hands, fiddling with her fingers. Rayna had decided to have their little get together at a local café, not too far from Charlotte's apartment building. Charlotte's coffee remained untouched for the most part, and she glanced at it anxiously._

 _"I'm sorry if I got you upset," Rayna said. "But I just want what's best for you. So does your family. If you're not happy with him, just break it off."_

 _"It's easy to say that, but I really want this to work." Charlotte's voice trembled slightly as she said it. She hoped Rayna hadn't noticed it. "I've been with Gavin longer than any other boyfriend I've ever had. I just...I want it to work."_

 _"You're putting in more of an effort than he is, Charlie," Rayna sighed._

 _"Ray, I didn't come here to talk about this." Running a hand through her hair, Charlie leaned back in her seat._

 _"I'm sorry." Shaking her head, Rayna let out a sigh. "Look, let's drop this."_

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

A hand on Charlie's shoulder startled her awake. She hadn't eve been aware she'd fallen asleep. Blinking rapidly, she looked around for a moment before she gathered her bearings. She was still in the room with Carl, only the needle in her arm, where she'd been giving the young boy blood, had been removed. A bandage had been carefully placed over her arm, but there was a small bloodstain on it. Looking at who touched her shoulder, she saw Lori, her face etched with worry.

"How long was I out?" she mumbled, rubbing her eyes, wincing at the tenderness of her arm.

"A couple hours." Lori's voice was trembling slightly. It looked as if she'd been crying. "Rick and Shane...they're not back yet."

Swallowing thickly, Charlie's bleary eyes went over to Carl's unconscious form. His bandages looked fresh, but they were still bloodied from the wound. "Does he need more blood?" she asked.

Lori shook her head. "Hershel says he's stable for now," she stammered.

Nodding, Charlie tried standing up, stumbled a bit, before gathering her footing. Lori's hands instantly went to Charlie's shoulders, keeping her in place. "You should rest," she said, her voice sounding more firm.

"I-I just need some fresh air." Charlie's voice sounded almost sheepish. "Being holed up in here..."

Lori accompanied Charlie outside, the two women sitting on the steps of the front porch. The nighttime air was cold and crisp, something that made Charlie unconsciously shiver. There were a few clouds dotting the sky; nighttime insects served as a background noise. If Charlie found Hershel's property beautiful before, she _definitely_ did at that moment. Seeing it at night made it look almost dreamlike; as if the end of the world hadn't happened.

"I don't think I can repay you for what you've done." Lori's soft voice cut through the peaceful silence like a knife. Looking at her, Charlie's lips pursed. "I wish Rick could be here with Carl, but I know he wants to do _some_ thing. You've been a blessing to us. Thank you."

"It's no big deal."

"You didn't _have_ to do what you did," Lori whispered, turning to look at Charlie. "You didn't. But you did anyway. I can't say how many other people would've done that..."

"These days, I'd say no one." Charlie shrugged. "At least, that's _my_ opinion."

There was a long moment of silence. "You know what it's like out there," Lori said.

"So do you and your people."

"But not like you."

Charlie's gaze fell downward. "I told this to Carl, back on the highway...don't trust anyone." Lori's brows furrowed. "People are just as dangerous as the dead. You don't know how a person truly is until it's their life against yours. It's _their_ personal interests or yours. Survival changes people. Whatever they become is out of our control."

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **Sorry it took so long to post this chapter, but here it is! If you liked it, let me know.**

 **TWD isn't mine.**

 **OK, in case of any confusion on this chapter: Charlotte had a friend named Rayna in the old world; her relationship with Gavin wasn't the best even before the apocalypse; I might be writing in the whole ordeal that went down with Shane and Otis in the next chapter or two, depending on how I'm feeling about it; since Rick went with them, he may or may not be exposed to the darker side of Shane, should I write it in; this whole subplot of Rick-going-with-Shane-and-Otis-for-Carl and Charlotte-giving-Carl-blood, etc., etc., etc. was suggested by a Guest reviewer who thought it'd be interesting to spice things up. I'm still debating on how I could write some of the reviewer's other suggestions in, but I'll figure something out soon.**

 **Anyway, who else was happy Maggie and the baby were OK? I was hoping she wasn't miscarrying, 'cause how terrible would it be to watch your husband get brutally murdered in front of you, but to also lose the baby you were having with him? Also, who else was a little angry with Gregory this episode?! Hopefully he's dealt with soon.**

 **I promise, once the story starts to progress, there'll be more interaction between Charlotte and Daryl, since they're going to be the ones paired up. Hopefully some of the established relationships between Charlotte and Rick's people have been decent so far; I know she hasn't interacted with everyone, but, yeah...**

 **Leave a thought on anything I can improve on.**

 **Sincerely,**

 **Alek Haydn**


	14. Chapter 14

_"We do have a lot in common. The same Earth, the same air, the same sky. Maybe if we start looking at what's the same, instead of looking at what's different...well, who knows?"_ -Meowth; **Pokémon The First Movie**

* * *

Sitting in Carl's room, Charlie looked at the young boy. He was deathly pale and coated in a thin layer of sweat. His abdomen was heavily bandaged, but blood still seeped through. Charlie couldn't help but feel a little sad for him, and it broke her heart knowing he was in such a condition. Without hospitals and the proper medical attention, Carl had a strong possibility of dying. She didn't dare say it out loud, though; the thought already hung heavily in Lori's mind.

Letting out a sigh, Charlie shifted a little in her seat. She'd recovered enough to give Carl some more blood. She was completely aware of the needle in her arm, of the lightheaded sensation she was feeling. Charlie was going over the time she told Rick she'd stay, but she knew that the group needed her help more than anything. With Rick gone with Shane and Otis, Carl needed a blood supply; and since Charlie's seemed to be the only one who could go with his blood type, she _had_ to stay. Not to mention Hershel might need assistance in any further examinations on Carl.

The saddened feeling intensified in her. She never had children of her own, but she couldn't help but feel terrible for Carl. Sophia, too. All mentions of injuries and disappearances aside, Charlie couldn't comprehend what it was like having to grow up in the environment they were exposed to. Having to avoid walkers, move from place to place with people they barely know; the possibility of running into the living who'd stop at nothing to take what they could. The world was more dangerous than before, and there was nothing they could do about it. There were no laws, no policemen or government officials—they were on their own.

The one thing, though, that really struck a chord in Charlie was whether or not the rest of the world was suffering as terribly as America seemed to be. Had every other country in the world lost power? If they hadn't, were they able to communicate with each other? Charlie remembered hearing how the virus eventually went global, then the power was cut. She couldn't stand not knowing how the rest of the world was doing. From what she'd gathered, America had gone into a complete uproar when things really started getting bad. Riots were happening left and right. People getting shot by the military or killed by each other. It was complete madness.

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

"You sure about this?" Shane threw a look Rick's way. Rick was still pale, looking a little sickly. It was to be expected, given he'd donated so much blood to his son. Shane could see the determination in Rick's eyes, and he knew what the answer would be.

"He's my son, Shane," he exclaimed, his voice sounding raspy. "I've gotta do something. I can't just do nothing..."

"That's the thing, you _were_ doing something." Shane's hands tightened on the steering wheel. "You were gonna give Carl blood, remember? You were gonna stay there and keep an eye on him, be with Lori and all that. What do you do? You leave, Rick. That's stupid."

"He is my son." Rick sharply emphasized each word, glaring at Shane. "I will do whatever it takes to ensure his safety. Understood?"

A feeling stirred deep inside Shane. It wasn't unfamiliar; it had been slowly but surely making itself known to him. Ever since Rick had come back the sensation had been getting stronger and stronger. Things were getting complicated. Unnecessarily complicated. Looking over at Rick, Shane could see just how serious he was; getting those supplies for Carl's surgery was something Rick had to do. They'd already gone too far to turn back, even _with_ Rick's delicate stage.

"Fine."

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

 _"Gavin, please..." Charlotte's voice trembled. She looked up at him in horror. He looked almost expressionless, looking not at all like the man she thought he was. There was a look in Gavin's eyes that didn't look at all human. It terrified her. The men from the other group regarded her—_ _leering_ _at her_ _—in a way that made her stomach churn. "Gavin...," she whispered, her voice trembling so violently it was painful._

 _"Do we have a deal or not?" The tone in his voice made a shiver of discomfort burst up Charlotte's spine._

 _One of the men from the other group, possibly the leader, gave a perverted smirk. "I'd say we have one," he exclaimed; making it obvious that he was checking Charlotte out. "It's not every day you get a deal this nice."_

 _Tears ran down Charlotte's face. Gavin had just sold her to a group of men they didn't even know. She had to be mistaken, right? Somewhere along the line, she must have misheard something! Her boyfriend wouldn't just sell her to a group of men. Would he?_

 _Charlotte let out a strangled sob._

 _"Charlotte," Gavin said, his voice sounding almost disgusted, "will you shut up?"_

 _"Please don't do this," she whispered, her voice almost inaudible. "You can't do this."_

 _Gavin looked at her. That was when Charlotte really started to understand the kind of person he had become. The man in front of her wasn't the same person as before; he was different. Significantly different. Before, Charlotte's boyfriend was still kind of hard to get along with, but there were so many things about him that Charlotte found admirable, that she_ _loved_ _. The man standing in front of her was cold, distant, unforgiving_ _—he was the exact opposite as the man Charlotte was used to. The old Gavin was gone. He'd disappeared a long time ago, Charlotte was just too scared to see it._

 _She had to do something._

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

The world was always a strange place. People either learned how to adapt to society in step-by-step intervals or they had to learn how to adapt all at once, in a giant messy cluster-fuck of what things were _supposed_ to be like. What Charlotte came to understand was that the world didn't care about anyone's safety or wellbeing. Mother Nature wasn't going to hold off some kind of natural disaster just because someone was having a bad day. Before, there were hurricanes, tornadoes, earthquakes—all the things people were used _(or not, depending on where they lived)_ to enduring. Zombies weren't things people were used to enduring. Charlotte saw the world as someone throwing a punch in the gut of everyone's lives. Once humanity got over the latest disaster, the world came in with the latest one.

Thinking it over, Charlotte couldn't help but laugh at how everything turned out. Two years prior, she never would've believed the dead would walk the Earth. It was something only seen in horror films or cheesy video games. But it _did_ happen, and she was in the middle of it. Whether she liked it or not. Charlotte had to remind herself every day that the world, that Mother Nature, could give a rat's ass about whether she lived or died; she wasn't anything important, just some little human scuttling away from danger.

But, for some reason, she seemed to find refuge in Rick's group. Temporarily. Assuming she would be staying in Rick's group would be wrong, she never formally discussed it with him.

Leaning back in her seat, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to force herself to relax. A faint noise came from somewhere in the house. Opening her eyes, Charlotte stayed as still as possible, hoping she'd catch the sound again. Nothing.

But...she _did_ hear something.

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **It's been a little bit since I've updated a new chapter. I've been so overwhelmed with school and work that my stories have been the last thing on my mind. I've got all my finals next Monday so I'm stressing out big time! Once they're out of the way, I'll be able to update a little more frequently.**

 **TWD isn't mine.**

 **OK, I know season 7 has been received a lot of hate from a lot of people _(and, in a sense, I can understand; this season has its moments)_ , but did anyone else feel like last Sunday's episode was a little pointless? As much as I love Tara, I just couldn't understand why the writers and producers would put together an episode like that. There was hardly anything good about it. Yeah, it was sad when Tara figured everything out, but I just didn't see the point in anything that happened in that episode. But, there's also the chance that Tara might use the Oceanside people in the potential war against Negan. If it's written into the show, which I don't see why not. Let me know your thoughts!**

 **Leave a thought on anything I can improve on.**

 **Sincerely,**

 **Alek Haydn**


	15. Chapter 15

_"Be careful which path you travel down, Strange. Stronger men than you have lost their way."_ -Wong; **Doctor Strange _(movie)_**

* * *

"How're you feeling?"

Charlotte looked up to see the same woman who led her and Lori to the farm sitting across from her. She looked a little sympathetic, if not looking at her with almost pity. Charlotte didn't put it past her to look that way; she must've looked pitiful. Rick's group had to look the same way.

"I don't know." Charlotte had given Carl as much blood as Hershel deemed necessary, allowing her to have a moment to recover.

"Do you wanna lay down?"

"No, thank you."

There was a moment of silence between the two women. When Charlotte was allowed to leave Carl's room, she, as carefully as possible, went into Hershel's kitchen to sit down. Lori was spending some time with her son, and Charlotte knew she needed her privacy.

"I'm Maggie, by the way." The woman, Maggie, gave a small smile. It seemed friendly enough, and Charlotte could sense a bit of goodness in her, but that wasn't enough for Charlotte to completely trust her.

"Charlotte."

"It's good what you're doing for him," Maggie pushed.

Shaking her head, Charlotte let out a sigh. "It's nothing," she said, her voice sounding flat. Charlotte could feel Maggie's eyes on her, studying her carefully. It didn't matter if Maggie found her to be a good person or not, Charlotte knew when she was needed for something important. Carl needed blood, he needed someone to help look after him. She was doing what she deemed necessary.

"Rick seems like a good man."

"I'm not with him." The answer was immediate. Maggie's brows furrowed in confusion. "He needed my assistance, I never said I was with him."

"That makes sense."

Another bout of silence fell between them.

"Your property is beautiful," Charlotte said.

Maggie tried for a smile. "It's been with my father for generations," she answered. "It's secluded, which is nice."

"How long have you guys been living here?"

"Since it all started."

Charlotte looked at Maggie in shock. "You've been here the whole time?" she exclaimed.

"Daddy didn't want us being separated." Maggie's tone sounded almost offended. "He wanted us all together."

"It's dangerous to stay in one place too long," Charlotte warned. "If the rotters don't come here first, the living will."

"Are you saying you'll take this from us?" Maggie's tone became sharp, almost untrusting.

"I have no intention of staying here, trust me." Charlotte's tone was equally as sharp. "I doubt Rick's people will do anything with Carl in such bad shape. But if you stay in one place any longer than you have to, things _will_ end badly."

Maggie's lips pursed into a thin line. She could see the expression in Charlotte's eyes; the emptiness mixed with the anger and hatred. It wasn't directed at anyone, though. It was as if Charlotte was feeling all those things about herself—she hated herself, but at the same time she didn't feel anything.

"How do you know?" Maggie exclaimed.

"I've been out there long enough to know."

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

Maggie's mind was going over all the things Charlotte said. It was true, Maggie's father didn't want her or anyone else to leave the property unless it was absolutely necessary. But since the land had been in the Greene family for generations, Hershel had no intentions of leaving any time soon. Hershel was a reasonable but proud man, he took great pride in his land, in being able to keep his family and friends safe. He managed to keep Maggie, Beth, Otis, and Patricia alive. But the barn...

Crossing her arms over her chest, Maggie's mind drifted to the barn. It was filled with family and friends. Maggie's stepmother and stepbrother; neighbors, old friends of Hershel's... People Hershel convinced himself and the others were living, sickly people. Part of Maggie _was_ convinced that her stepmother and stepbrother would come out OK eventually, but there was another part of her that had to wonder just how long would it take before it would be too much? They were feeding the ones in the barn living animals; they weren't allowed to leave under any circumstances. Every time Maggie went by the barn there was a putrid smell. Would sick people really smell _that_ bad?

Charlotte's words rang as clear as day in Maggie's mind. She didn't want to believe her. She really didn't. But Charlotte had the experience of what it was like on the outside; she knew how people reacted, how the dead worked. Maggie had a faint idea, but it wasn't much to go by. She had more of an idea than Beth did, she knew that much.

Beth, Maggie's younger half-sister, was more vulnerable, more frightened. Maggie believed that Beth wouldn't be able to adapt well to the outside world. With the dead wandering around, waiting to find their next meal, Maggie had to tell herself that Beth would be too terrified to do something. Hershel was thought the same way, saying Beth had a naivety to her, something he didn't want manipulated.

After Maggie had left the kitchen, leaving Charlotte by herself, she wandered down one of the hallways of the house until she stopped at a locked door. Standing there for a moment, Maggie listened intently. She couldn't hear anything. Hershel made it clear that no one go in there without his permission. Everyone knew what was behind that door; everyone but Rick's people, that is. Hershel didn't trust them enough to tell them.

But Hershel just didn't understand the other problems Rick's people were dealing with.

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **I know, I know** **—this chapter is much shorter than the other ones, but I'm trying to kind of keep this whole plotline going for as long as I can until I decide to move on. Not to mention I've been going a little off the way season 2 was originally going. In case anyone's wondering, the whole Charlotte-staying-with-the-Greenes-to-help-Carl and Rick-going-off-with-Shane-and-Otis was suggested by a kind reviewer a while back. This was not my idea. There will also be a few more things that will be added that the kind reviewer suggested, but those will be making an appearance later on.**

 **TWD isn't mine.**

 **Last author's note I mentioned that I was getting overwhelmed with school and work, but I also bought the newest Pokémon game so I was getting a little sidetracked by that, too. I will admit that Pokémon has been the one fandom that I haven't seemed to outgrow. I haven't played the games as far back as Gen1—the first game I played was** _ **EMERALD**_ **—but I have enjoyed every game that's come out over the years. Anywho, please excuse my nerdy moment.**

SeverusSnape'sLove: _Thank you so much for enjoying the story! Hopefully it keeps your interest the further down the road it gets._

Guest No. 1: _I'm glad that you like how Charlotte's handling everything! I was hoping that the way I was writing her—not being_ _super_ _accepting of Rick and Co., but not being too distrustful_ _—was making sense to the reviewers! I wanted Charlotte to at least have some humanity when it came to people who were in trouble! As for Charlotte's relationship with Maggie and her family, it'll probably be the same as with how she's dealing with Rick and everyone right now; a little distant, some trust issues, but there's still the possibility of a good relationship coming out of it. I have to admit, I didn't really think too much into the walkers-in-the-barn scenario like that. Your theory makes some sense, and that could be why Hershel's land was seemingly untouched when it came to walkers. I hope to hear from you soon, my friend. Hopefully the story keeps up your interest._

 **If you've got ideas on subplots or OCs, don't hesitate to leave a review or PM me. I'd love to add your ideas to the story.**

 **Leave a thought on anything I can improve on.**

 **Sincerely,**

 **Alek Haydn**


	16. Chapter 16

_"The important thing is not how long you live...It's what you accomplish with your life."_ -Grovyle; **Pokémon Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of the Sky**

* * *

The drive to the high school had, for the most part, went by in silence. Aside from Otis giving directions. When they _did_ reach the high school, there was a fence surrounding it, abandoned vehicles and tents scattered around the area. Then there were the walkers. It was well past nightfall by the time they reached the school.

"What exactly are we looking for?" Rick asked.

"A respirator is the most important," Otis said, checking his gun. "Like Hershel said, your son won't be able to breathe on his own when he's under."

Sharing a look with Shane, Rick looked back at Otis for a moment. "I'm trusting you'll know what to do," he said.

"I do." There was a firmness in Otis' voice. "I did this to your boy. I want to know he got better."

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

 _"Charlie..." One of the group members, a middle aged woman named Quinn, took a small step forward. They all managed to kill the group Gavin had been negotiating with, and that had infuriated Gavin to no end. The way he saw it, Gavin was making the best decision for the group. Before he could do anything out of line, Charlotte slashed his throat. She let him bleed out for a minute or two before stabbing his head._

 _Charlotte's gaze went to Quinn, who unintentionally flinched. Blood was spattered on Charlotte's hands; flecks of Gavin's blood was on her cheeks. "I'm OK," she said, her voice sounding almost flat. "So are you."_

 _Quinn nodded. "Yes, we're fine," she said._

 _"I should go."_

 _Quinn's brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"_

 _"I'm no good to you, to any of you." Charlotte looked at the group for a moment. There were about five others that had been traveling with her and Gavin, and they were relatively nice people. But, if she were to be completely honest with herself, Charlotte knew they weren't built to survive in the world they were in._

 _"You're our only medic," a young boy, Ashton, exclaimed. "You can't leave!"_

 _"Thalia has medical experience, too," Charlotte said. Thalia was a woman somewhere in her mid- to late-thirties. She had been a registered nurse before the outbreak, so her knowledge on medicine surpassed Charlotte's. "She knows far more than I do."_

 _"But that doesn't mean you should go," Thalia snapped. "We need you."_

 _"Really?" Charlotte barked. "For what? Tell me. You all have Thalia, the nurse. Ashton, you're decent when it comes to hunting. Quinn knows how to cook. And the rest of you know how to at least take down some rotters. What am I useful for?"_

 _They were all silent. They looked at Charlotte in shock, but also frustration._

 _"You're strong," Charlotte said. "If I go, what difference will it make? You'll survive. I know you will."_

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

Otis, Rick, and Shane managed to sneak into an area of the school where Otis was certain a majority of the medical supplies were located. Otis instructed Shane to grab three small oxygen tanks while he searched for medication. He told Rick what the respirator looked like, which meant it was Rick's duty to find it.

"That's it," Otis whispered, pointing to what Rick was looking for. Nodding, he grabbed it and shoved it into a backpack Shane had given him. There was a moment of tense silence between the three of them. They were able to make it to their location without being noticed by the walkers. They were trying to move as quickly as possible, hoping they'd be able to find what they needed and leave. Otis had written down a list of things that were vital for Carl's surgery, which meant Rick wasn't entirely sure how far into the list they were. It wasn't long into their scavenging that Otis let out a pleased sound. "Endotracheal intubator, baby," he whispered, holding up what he was talking about. "For my new respirator."

Slapping Otis on the shoulder, Shane nodded before locking eyes with Rick. The two nodded, grabbing the last of the supplies they needed before heading out.

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

The day had progressed in a relatively slow manner. Charlotte had done the same routine the entire time—rest, give Carl blood, repeat. She knew she couldn't back out in giving the young boy blood, and even though there was still some heavy bleeding, it looked like it slowed down some. By the time nightfall came around, and there hadn't been a single sign that Rick, Otis, _or_ Shane were on their way back, there was some worry. Most of it was coming from Lori, who would not only keep an eye on the front of Hershel's property, hoping to find the truck that her husband and the others were on, but she'd try and spend time with her son, who hadn't regained consciousness.

After another bout of blood-giving, Charlotte was sitting outside of Carl's room, her head resting against the wall while she closed her eyes. It had to be well into the middle of the night, and even though she was exhausted from giving so much blood, she knew better than to wander off. Not to mention she just couldn't bring herself to go to sleep.

The door to Carl's room opened, making Charlotte open her eyes.

"I didn't know you were still out here." Lori's voice was hoarse, as if she'd been crying.

"Figured I'd stay nearby." Charlotte's voice was barely going above a whisper.

"I understand you don't expect much from us," Lori said, her voice trembling slightly, "but you've got to understand how much this means to us. To me."

Swallowing thickly, Charlotte's gaze went over to Lori. It was dark, but not dark enough for Charlotte to not see the expression on Lori's face. There was redness around Lori's eyes, not to mention some puffiness. She _had_ been crying.

"You didn't _have_ to help us," she went on. "You didn't _have_ to stick around. But you did."

"For my own selfish reasons."

Lori shook her head. "It still means something. And as much as I _hate_ the idea of Rick and Shane being out there, I know they're doing it for Carl's benefit. I owe them, and you, so much." A hint of a smile, albeit a strained one, came across Lori's face. "I guess I just want to say thank you." She turned and went to the front of Hershel's home.

 _You didn't have to stick around._ That struck the deepest chord in Charlotte. It was true. She didn't _have_ to stay and help, but she chose to anyway. There had to be _some_ thing good about that.

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **I know this chapter took too long to post, but when finals are just a few days away, you can imagine how studying is bumped up a little, right? I guess posting a new chapter isn't the smartest thing when it's so closed to finals week, but I needed a break. This chapter probably wasn't the most well-written chapter out there, but hopefully you guys liked it.**

 **TWD isn't mine.**

 **Leave a thought on anything I can improve on.**

 **Sincerely,**

 **Alek Haydn**


	17. Chapter 17

_"The true mind can weather all the lies and illusions without being lost. The true heart can touch the poison of hatred without being harmed. Since beginningless time, darkness thrives in the void, but always yields to purifying light."_ - **The Lion-Turtle** ; Avatar the Last Airbender

* * *

It had been a relief when Shane, Otis, and Rick made it to where the medicine was being held without being noticed by the walkers, but when it came time for them to get out, that was when they really faced a problem. They were going to have to be facing the countless walkers surrounding the school. Shane made sure that they all had weapons, but that didn't make it any less terrifying. There were more walkers than they were comfortable with, and it didn't go unnoticed that they wouldn't have enough ammo to take all of them on.

Swallowing thickly, Rick tried readying himself for what he knew was going to happen. The only way out was to face the walkers. Taking a deep breath, he held onto the gun Shane had given him. He adjusted the backpack on his shoulder, trying to reassure himself that he still had what he needed. The walkers heard the noise the door made when it opened, and that caused their attention to turn to them. Shane motioned them to follow, and they started running. Otis was falling behind, and while Shane and Rick were trying to help him catch up, it was becoming even more of a problem.

"Stay with me!" Shane shouted.

Rick was lagging to help Otis, and he kept cursing under his breath the closer the walkers got. Where they exited from the school was the closest to the exit they could get, but with the swarm behind them, they were going to have to figure something else out. It was well into the night and it wouldn't go undetected by the others that they'd been gone for far too long. They were on tight time already, and the longer they stayed from Hershel's farm, the more dire Carl's situation became.

Running around the other side of the school, the three men climbed up some stairs leading to another part of the school, the walkers still close on their tails. The stairs led to another pathway, which was also overrun with walkers. Letting out a curse, Shane motioned Rick and Otis to go down another path running opposite to the previous.

"Come on!" Shane exclaimed, trying to help Rick with Otis. Turning a corner, they were led to the back of the school. More walkers showed up, causing them to panic. "In here!" There were glass doors leading to the inside of the school, but they were locked. "Stay back!" Shane shouted.

"Hurry!" Rick cried, getting his gun ready.

Letting out two shots, the glass to the locked doors shattered, allowing Shane to jump through, motioning Rick and Otis to quickly follow. Once they were in, Shane quickly threw a gate over the opening, the walkers pushing against it.

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

The already heavy anxiousness and worry that was hanging over everyone's head was becoming overwhelming. Rick, Shane, and Otis still weren't back, and the night seemed to be progressing in an even slower manner. Hershel had decided that Charlotte had given enough blood for the time being and she _needed_ her rest. Her bandaged arm was already coated in blood, and it stung and ached. She was lightheaded and weak, but she was still willing to give as much blood as possible until Rick and the others came back.

Dale and the others hadn't arrived yet, which worried Charlotte even more. What had happened to T-Dog? Did he die from his wound? Had Dale given him the right amount of medication?

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Charlotte tried calming herself down. She had to keep herself calm.

"Aren't you cold?" Maggie sat down next to Charlotte. After giving Carl more blood less than half an hour ago, Charlotte decided she needed to get some fresh air. She was starting to feel claustrophobic.

"I'm OK," Charlotte responded.

"I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot." Maggie looked at Charlotte almost sympathetically.

Shrugging, Charlotte unconsciously rubbed her forearm, hoping it would ease some of the discomfort it was emanating.

"I can show you to a room for the night," Maggie said. "You should really get some rest."

"I can't. Carl may need more blood."

"You've done all you can for now." There was a firmness in Maggie's voice, one Charlotte knew would be difficult to argue with. While it _was_ important that Carl get blood as frequently as possible, there was only so much Charlotte could do before it became dangerous for _her_. If Charlotte lost too much blood, her life could be just as much in trouble as Carl's.

"We don't even know when Rick and the others will come back," Charlotte mumbled, "if at all."

The sharpness in Maggie's gaze was quick to respond to Charlotte's comment. " _Don't_ talk like that," she hissed. "Otis knows what he's doing. He's a good man!"

"You may not like what I'm saying, but I'm trying to be realistic."

"Doesn't sound that way to me."

Charlotte shot a heated glare Maggie's way. "How much experience do you have out there?"

"Enough."

"Really?" Charlotte scoffed. Closing her eyes, Charlotte took a deep breath before letting it out. "I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I just don't understand how you can live like this."

There was a moment of silence between the two of them, and Charlotte wasn't going to waste her time wondering if the silence would be considered awkward or not. She was still unconsciously rubbing the arm she'd given blood from, the aching having lessened slightly.

 _This is probably the safest you've ever been,_ she thought after a moment. _Why're you making this so difficult on yourself?_

It was true. Charlotte couldn't really remember a time she was _really_ safe! When she had been travelling with Gavin and the others in her group, she had felt a little bit of safety with them, but only because she was with other people, not because she was somewhere secluded. After separating herself from the remainder of her group the day she killed Gavin, Charlotte came to the conclusion that she'd never be safe. It was just something she would have to come to accept. But after finding Rick and his people, and then finding Hershel's farm, Charlotte was starting to understand that maybe she _was_ starting to feel a little more secure on Hershel's land. Maybe even with Rick and his people. She was still feeling guarded, still trying to preserve herself first, but she was trying her hardest to at least help out.

Even though her trial-period with Rick had long since passed, she was starting to wonder if she could really give his little group a chance.

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **I know, I know** **—it took me way too long to get this chapter up. But here it is! Hopefully you guys enjoy it. It's a bit shorter compared to the other chapters, but I will try and make the next ones a bit longer.**

 **TWD isn't mine.**

 **If you've got ideas for future chapters—subplots or OCs you'd like to see written into the story** **—leave a review or PM me.**

 **Leave a thought on anything I can improve on.**

 **Sincerely,**

 **Alek Haydn**


	18. Chapter 18

_"YOLO,_

 _Say no no,_

 _Isolate yourself,_

 _And just run solo,_

 _Be care-folo,_

 _You oughta look out,_

 _Also stands for YOLO...,"_

 **YOLO** ; by the Lonely Island

* * *

 **The Next Morning**

Charlotte, having spent the remainder of her night barely being able to sleep, waited outside Carl's room. Rick and Shane had returned from their destination, but Otis, from what Shane had announced, died before they could even leave the high school. From what Shane had said, Otis gave his life to ensure that Carl lived; it was a brutal but heroic death in the eyes of Hershel's family. Carl would be able to get the surgery he needed, which was a plus; but that didn't make things any less painful for everyone else.

Rick seemed almost dumbfounded that he'd lose someone on a run. Everyone came to realize that there were many things about the new world Rick had little to no experience in. Losing someone was one of the natural orders.

The talk Charlotte had the previous night with Maggie kept Charlotte on edge. What would Maggie say to her family about what she had to say?

 _Don't worry yourself on things like that,_ Charlotte reminded herself. _As long as Carl gets the treatment he needs, that's all that matters._

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

 **The Previous Night**

Rick, Shane, and Otis managed to get themselves away from the walkers. Unfortunately, the barrier they had between themselves and the walkers didn't hold up for much longer. The walkers managed to get into where the three men were, filling the hallways with their snarls, their _stench_. Rick, Shane, and Otis ran as fast as they could, but the walkers were able to find them and catch up to them.

Shane was calling orders, trying to lead the three of them down other hallways, hoping to find an exit. It was...difficult. Every corner they turned, every hallway they went down, the walkers followed without fail. They felt _so_ _close_.

Otis started lagging.

Rick had to slow down some to make sure he didn't get left behind.

That added more stress to the situation.

"Come on!" Shane shouted, almost leaving Rick and Otis behind. Rick gave Otis another shove, the heavier man stumbling forward. After turning another corner, they found the gymnasium. It was already dangerously crowded with walkers, but they managed to climb onto the bleachers. The walkers that were following them added to the walkers in the gym, making it nearly impossible to leave. "Those windows," Shane exclaimed, trying to talk over the sound of the dead, "what's on the other side?" Shining his flashlight on the other side of the gym, the three men focused on the closed windows.

"About a twenty-foot drop with nothing to catch you," Otis responded, still trying to catch his breath. "Maybe some bushes, then the athletic field."

"Do you think we can make it?" Rick exclaimed, keeping his gun ready.

"I-I mean, maybe; I d-don't know...," Otis stammered.

"We just need enough time," Shane said. "We need to get up there. We need to get 'em open and get out."

"Not me," Otis said. "Maybe you two."

"Hey, hey, hey," Rick snapped. "We are not leaving you behind, understand? We _need_ you. OK? You're important to us."

"Come on, look at me," Otis exclaimed. "You really think I can squeeze through one of them tiny windows? They'd be all over us. We lay down some fire to get a head start. You two stay here. I hop down and draw them away. That gives you the chance to get up the bleachers and out the window."

"Where do you go?" Shane asked.

Pointing, Otis got Rick and Shane to see what he was talking about. "Locker room," he said. "Down those steps."

"Looks like a good way to get trapped," Shane exclaimed.

"It's got windows, too," Otis added, "and more my size. I get out through one, I double back, we meet up out on the field."

"We both can," Rick said.

"Rick, come on, man," Shane said.

"He should at _least_ have someone help him." A determined look spread across Rick's face. Shane knew that look all too well. It was almost _impossible_ to argue at Rick when he had that expression. "You're probably the fastest one," Rick added, "you can get out there while Otis and I lead them away."

"I'm trying to do right for that boy," Otis sighed. "This is the best way I can offer it. You go on ahead."

Shane shouldered his backpack. "Y'all are crazy sons a bitches," he grumbled. "Y'all take three shots and you go! After that, I fire. I'll lay down a cover for you both."

Rick and Otis nodded. Taking off his backpack, Rick handed it to Shane.

Aiming their guns at the walkers below, Otis took his three shots; while not long after Rick took his. When it seemed like the walkers were distracted by the gunshots, the two of them leapt from the bleachers and made a run for it. Otis stumbled, letting out a pained cry when he landed on his stomach. Rick had nearly tripped, letting out a grunt before he regained his balance; just in time to see a walker grabbing one of Otis' ankles. Shooting the walker in the head, Rick helped Otis up before the remaining walkers got to them.

Shane fired off on some of the walkers, trying to make it easier for Otis and Rick. The walkers didn't seem too distracted by Shane, much to his relief and distress, but it helped him get to the athletic field to meet up with Rick and Otis.

After what felt like a lifetime of waiting, Shane managed to jump from the bleachers when the first sign of an actual opening appeared. The walkers seemed too distracted in getting Rick and Otis to really pay attention to what Shane was doing. Landing on his feet, Shane quickly scrambled up the steps that led to the windows.

Breaking the window, Shane tried getting as much glass and debris out of the way so he wouldn't get snagged or hurt on the way down. Doing a quick look behind him, he let out a curse when he saw three walkers stumbling up the steps. Shooting one in the chest, the force of the gunshot caused it to fall back onto the other two. Using that moment, he carefully tossed his and Rick's backpacks over the ledge, trying to be careful in dropping his gun into the bushes, before he tried finding the best way to land. Awkwardly climbing out the window, he sat on the ledge for a moment, trying to angle himself to land in the bushes.

A walker appeared before he could even get himself properly stationed. With the walker grabbing at him, and Shane trying to maintain proper balance, he tried figuring out a way to take down the walker and jump from the window. Eventually, Shane took out his gun and shot the walker, the impact of the gun causing him to lose his balance and fall on one of his ankles.

The sounds of gunshots caught his attention.

 **-0-0-0-0-**

It had to be a little after two in the morning when the sounds of an engine pulled up into the driveway. Charlotte, who retreated back into Hershel's home after her talk with Maggie, had resided herself into the family's living room. Peaking through the closed curtains, she saw the headlights of a car turn off before the car doors opened. Silently standing up, she took out her knife and held it tightly in her hands. Despite her weakened condition, she was determined to fight off whoever was out there.

Quietly moving to the front door, Charlotte kept her knife positioned to get the possible intruder's head; her other hand on the door handle.

She heard voices outside, footsteps coming up the front porch.

 _Those voices sound...familiar,_ she thought, her brows furrowing. Going to the nearest window, she pulled back the curtain and saw Glenn and T-Dog. Letting out a sigh, she lowered her knife. _Maggie told them the address to this place, didn't she?_ Charlotte let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose in slight frustration.

The front door opened. Maggie, Glenn, and T-Dog walked in.

"Charlotte!" Glenn exclaimed.

"Hey." She tried for a smile, but it probably came out as a grimace.

"What happened?" Glenn stammered.

"It's nothing," she said, shaking her head. "How're you doing? T-Dog?"

"I'm good, but..." Glenn glanced back at his friend, who had a blanket draped over his shoulders. T-Dog was visibly shivering, despite the sweat that dampened his clothes. The bandage on his arm looked relatively new, but there was a bloodstain on it.

"Did Dale give you any of the medication?" Charlotte exclaimed, hurrying over to them.

T-Dog nodded. "He gave me as much as he thought I should take," he mumbled. "Hardly feel any different."

Carefully placing a hand between his shoulder-blades, she helped Maggie lead him into the kitchen.

"Do you have a needle and some thread?" she asked Maggie. When she nodded, Charlotte let out a relieved sigh. "I'll stitch him up. I've helped take care of him, so don't you worry about it."

"Are you sure?" There was a firmness in Maggie's eyes.

Nodding, Charlotte returned the expression. "Believe me, I've got this."

When T-Dog sat down, Charlotte sat down next to him. She extended his arm and gently removed the bloodied bandage. T-Dog let out a pained sound, but immediately tried covering it up. With the bandage completely off, she could see just how discolored the area around the cut was. The veins around the wound were almost black, the wound was a deep reddish purple color, any blood around the wound had crusted over.

"Do you still have the medicine I gave you?" she asked.

Glenn pulled out the medicine bag and handed it to her. "I'll have to disinfect the wound before I stitch it up," she instructed. "Are you still able to feel anything around the cut?" T-Dog nodded. "OK, that's good." Pulling out some disinfectant, Charlotte let out a curse when she couldn't find any gauze.

At that moment, Maggie came in and put some gauze, bandages, disinfectant and a stitch and needle beside Charlotte. Nodding her thanks, Charlotte poured her disinfectant on one of the gauze and firmly pressed it on T-Dog's cut. He strained against letting out a curse. When the wound looked clean enough, Charlotte looked at T-Dog with almost apologetic eyes. "This might sting," she said; picking up the needle and thread.

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **Sorry for taking so long to post this chapter. I hope you guys like it, though! It's a relatively long one. What do you guys think of Rick helping out Otis and Shane? What do you think of Charlotte helping out Carl and T-Dog? Let me know what you guys think.**

 **TWD isn't mine.**

 **The idea of Rick helping out Shane and Otis is not my idea. So if you've got ideas on subplots or OCs you'd like to see added to the story, don't hesitate to review or PM me.**

 **Let me know if there's anything I should improve on.**

 **Thank you.**

 **Alek Haydn**


	19. Chapter 19

_"Humans are odd. They think order and chaos are somehow opposites and try to control what won't be. But there is grace in their failings. I think you missed that."_ -Vision; **Avengers Age of Ultron**

* * *

 **The Previous Night cont.**

T-Dog seemed to handle the procedure rather well. There was some pain, which Charlotte expected him to feel, but he was able to stay as still as possible until the wound was closed. After completing the stitching, Charlotte bandaged his arm after disinfecting it one last time.

"That should be good," she said. "As long as it's cleaned and properly bandaged, you'll be fine."

"Thank you," T-Dog hissed, holding his arm close to him.

Trying for a smile, Charlotte nodded. "I'm sorry I wasn't around to help you out more," she said. "But you should be better off than before."

After a moment's silence, Glenn spoke. "How's Carl?"

"You can see him," Maggie said. "My father should be done checking on him."

Leading them from the kitchen to Carl's room, Charlotte saw the pained looks that swept across Glenn's and T-Dog's faces. Glenn removed his hat, looking almost unsure on what else he was supposed to be doing. T-Dog looked down for a moment, shuffling where he stood. Lori sat next to Carl's bed, biting her nails as Hershel finished the last of checking Carl's vitals.

"Hey," Glenn said.

Lori looked at him and smiled.

"Where's Rick?" Glenn asked.

"He went with Shane to find something," Lori said. "Carl needs it."

"A respirator," Hershel filled in. "I have to surgically remove the remaining bullet fragments in his abdomen or he won't make it. From the looks of it, if they're not back soon, I may have to perform it without the respirator."

Lori's gaze went to Hershel, her eyes wide and terrified.

Maggie murmured something to T-Dog and Glenn before leading them away. Charlotte lingered for a moment before following them out. She made sure to stay close to Carl's room in case Hershel needed her for something.

 **-0-0-0-0-**

Curling up on the sofa in the living room, Charlotte closed her eyes, resting her head on the sofa's armrest. She swallowed thickly, hoping to calm herself down. She'd been trying her best to keep Carl alive; giving him as much blood as she possibly could. It wasn't much, not compared to what Hershel was doing, but it was the least she could do. It gave Rick the opportunity to help find the respirator for Carl's surgery.

"You look like shit." Opening her eyes, Charlotte saw Glenn sit on a recliner chair right across from the sofa. There was a hint of an apologetic smile on his face.

"I feel like it, too," she said, slowly sitting up. "I've been giving blood to Carl. It's been difficult."

Glenn nodded. "I'm sorry for all of this," he said.

"It's not your fault."

"We got you tangled up in our problems," Glenn said, his voice low. "We got you giving up so much of your time and energy for _us_. For Carl. For Sophia. You didn't ask for it, but you're doing it anyway."

Charlotte let out a slight scoff. "I may not trust you guys completely," she murmured, "but I _know_ when there are people in trouble. Maybe Sophia going missing and Carl getting shot was just some kind of sign that...I don't know, I need to stop being so cynical for once. You guys are still people; you're still alive. You haven't done anything to me. Not yet, and I hope there isn't a _yet_ with any of you." Charlotte looked at Glenn. "There were moments where I thought 'maybe I should've just done that trade with Rick and left', then what? Have you guys deal with all of this? Get even more stressed and scared?" Shaking her head, Charlotte rubbed her face, wincing at the aching in her arm. "I'll help when I know it's needed," she concluded. "And it's needed now."

 **-0-0-0-0-**

Shane limped slightly to where he heard the gunshots. Landing on his ankle the way he did made him wonder if he broke it or sprained it. He immediately shut the thought out. If he'd broken his ankle on the landing, he wouldn't be able to walk on it.

The shots went on for a minute longer before stopping. Shane managed to find a gathering of walkers on the other side of a fenced off area. Making sure to stay low and out of sight, Shane kept his gun held tightly before quickly limping off around a corner, where even more walkers were scattered about. After shooting down one that was coming at him, the others turned to him.

Looking around another corner, Shane cursed when he saw a small handful of walkers coming his way. Leaning against the furthest part of the fence, Shane tried catching his breath. He doubted he'd be able to outrun them, given the condition of his ankle. He _could_ try shooting them, but he was already limited in ammo and the sound of the gun going off would draw more walkers.

While he was reloading his gun, more walkers starting showing up, pressing themselves against the fence, snarling and growling and clawing at the fence. The combined weight of all of them was causing the fence to lean forward, to become unstable. If it collapsed, Shane knew he'd be dead. Once he finished reloading his gun, he aimed his gun at the walkers, but he couldn't bring himself to pull the trigger. He just kept watching them come closer and closer until...

A gunshot rang out and one of the walkers collapsed, making Shane flinch and lower his weapon. Looking over the heads of one of the oncoming walkers, Shane saw Otis and Rick, pointing their guns at the small herd. There wasn't a single trace of the previous herd of walkers from the gym. Once the walkers had been taken care of, Shane quickly limped-sprinted over to where Otis and Rick were.

"What happened?" Rick exclaimed.

Shane just shook his head. Taking off Rick's backpack, Shane handed it back to him. "Man, I thought I lost you both," he snapped. The sound of the walkers on the fence was getting louder.

"That was my last rifle round," Otis exclaimed, looking back at the walkers.

"I've got enough left for a few more," Rick said.

"Mine, too," Shane barked. "Come on."

 **-0-0-0-0-**

Hershel had kindly made Charlotte a sandwich so she could gather her strength. She had been going off whatever strength she had left, and when that was at its lowest point, she was simply running on fumes. Lori had hurriedly gone out on the front porch, looking on the brink of tears. Glenn had gone to spend time with T-Dog. Maggie was off somewhere.

Running a hand through her hair, Charlotte held the sandwich Hershel made her in one hand. She had been sitting on the sofa for what felt like a lifetime. There was a sense of relief that flooded her when she realized she was really alone. It gave her the chance to just _think_. It felt like something she couldn't do as often as she would've liked.

Letting out a sigh, she took a bite of the sandwich, leaning back on the sofa.

 _Rick's people really care about each other,_ she thought. Taking another bite of the sandwich, Charlotte put the partially eaten sandwich down, wiping her hands on her dirtied jeans. _They really care about each other._

It was very obvious. Rick's people seemed to hold each other in a very close manner; the same way a close-knit family would. Charlotte didn't have the opportunity to talk to every member of the group, but she could see just how dedicated they were to keeping each other alive. It was something to be admired.

 _When was the last time you were able to see people genuinely care like they do?_ she thought. _These people...they depend on each other to live. They don't use each other as leverage, they don't manipulate each other to gain something, they want to survive and they work together to make it happen._ Closing her eyes, Charlotte took a deep breath, trying to keep herself together.

The front door opened and out of the corner of Charlotte's eye, she saw Lori walk in. Her eyes were red and puffy. Lori had made a beeline to Carl's room, not even acknowledging anyone else. It didn't take long for things to start going bad.

"Charlotte!" Lori cried.

Quickly standing up, Charlotte nearly _ran_ into Carl's room. He was unconscious on the bed, looking even more pale than before. The bedsheets were thrown around, the pillows knocked onto the floor.

"What?" she exclaimed.

"He needs blood," Lori stammered, tears falling down her face.

"His brain's not getting enough blood," Hershel said, doing another examination on Carl. "His pressure is bottoming."

Holding out her arm, Charlotte sat herself down on the chair. "Let's do it," she said.

"If I take anymore out of you, your body will shut down," Hershel said. "You could go into a coma. Or cardiac arrest."

Charlotte's gaze became heated, almost piercing, as she gazed up at Hershel. "I told Rick I would give his son blood," she said, emphasizing each world. "That is what I'll do. We're wasting time."

Without another word, Hershel removed the bandage on Charlotte's arm, sticking the needle in for the transfusion.

Charlotte soon understood that if she died trying to help Carl, then at least she'd die doing something good for once.

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **What do you guys think? If the chapters seem too similar to the show, don't hesitate to let me know, OK? I'll try and mix it up the best I can. But I can't do that if you're not telling me.**

 **TWD isn't mine.**

 **I'm just a little curious, but what do you guys think of Charlotte? Is she annoying? Is she useful? I'm hoping she doesn't become some Mary-Sue character down the road. I've been trying to make her kind of cynical, maybe a little hard to trust people right away. Rick's people haven't come across any bad people yet, but Charlotte's got some experience with that. Are some of the things she's telling the others OK? I feel like it's important to know what you guys think of the OCs I have in this story, and since Charlotte's the main OC that interacts with the canon characters, I feel like it's really good on my part to know what kind of views you've got on her. Leave a review on what you think of her, if you want.**

 **Leave a thought on anything I should improve on.**

 **Thank you.**

 **Alek Haydn**


	20. Chapter 20

_"It is said in Japan that when a person dies in extreme sorrow or rage, the emotion remains, becoming a stain upon that place. Death becomes a part of that place, killing everything it touches. Once you have become a part of it, it will never let you go."_ -Detective Nakagawa; **The Grudge**

* * *

 **The Previous Night cont.**

"We need a way out." Rick put a hand on Otis' shoulder. The three men managed to put a lot of distance between themselves and the walkers, even if they _had_ been separated by a fence. They still couldn't find a visible exit, which meant that there was a possibility of not getting to Carl in time.

"Just let me catch my breath," Otis panted. Even with Shane's bad ankle, they were still doing a light jog.

"Come on, man," Shane muttered.

Before even having the opportunity to really relax, the walkers slammed themselves against the fence, causing the three men to jump away.

"C'mon," Rick exclaimed.

 **-0-0-0-0-**

Charlotte had her eyes closed, her lips pursed, as she felt the blood leaving her body. She was hyperaware of the needle, of every little sensation going on. Charlotte felt even more drained than before. Hershel had sent in his youngest daughter, Beth, to keep an eye on Charlotte and Carl. Lori couldn't stand being in the room, so she left. She said something along the lines of returning momentarily.

"Do you need me to get anything?" Beth asked, looking at Charlotte with the biggest, most innocent looking eyes she ever saw.

"Maybe some water, please?" Charlotte murmured.

Nodding, Beth gave a small, sheepish smile.

Watching her leave, Charlotte rolled her eyes. No wonder Maggie had an interest in going out; her sister seemed too meek—too vulnerable—to handle what was out there.

Turning her head, Charlotte used that opportunity to observe Carl. He had a thin layer of sweat coating his pale body. The bandage over his wound was already bloodied, despite the fact that Hershel changed it. Charlotte couldn't help but wonder if the blood she was giving was even working. Hershel said he wasn't getting enough blood to his brain, but with the wound still bleeding as badly as it was, how much good would giving him _more_ blood do?

 _It'd do him more good than dying,_ she thought, scolding herself. _You'd really be OK with a kid dying that horribly?_

Wincing slightly, Charlotte tried adjusting where she sat.

When Beth came back in with a glass of water, Charlotte tried for a smile. "Thank you," she said, taking the glass with a shaky hand.

"I understand why you're doing what you're doing," Beth said, "but seeing how much blood you've already given, you're just getting yourself killed." There was no malice behind Beth's words, just disbelief. As if she couldn't comprehend why someone would give their life to save someone else's.

"I'd rather die knowing I did something good than die knowing I did something bad."

Beth's face fell a little. "What've you done that's so bad?" she asked.

"Plenty of things." Charlotte felt a wave of something wash over her. It was different, nothing compared to the exhaustion. The feeling was heavy and overwhelming and uncomfortable. "When you've been out there long enough, you gotta learn the trick-of-the-trade if you want to survive."

Remembering all of the things she had done, Charlotte realized what she felt was shame. Deep, heavy shame. Despite how much time went by since society fell, it almost felt like yesterday when Charlotte had been in Virginia, visiting her family and having a wonderful time. Sometimes she had to remind herself that she used to smile and laugh and have a simple life. There had been a time where Charlotte had friends, a place to live, a job, she was getting an education—things that seemed so normal. But then everything went to shit, and she had to either adapt or die. It hadn't been easy, and it hadn't been pleasant. It still wasn't.

"Is it really that bad?" Beth's voice was small, almost anxious.

"It's not easy," she responded. "You live and you kill, or you'll die and you kill."

 **-0-0-0-0-**

Rick, Shane, and Otis managed to find an exit, but it was getting so difficult to move with Shane and his ankle, that Shane ended up tripping, taking Otis with him. The two men let out pained sounds, trying to regain their balance.

"Get back to the street," Otis panted, "double back to the truck."

"I've still got some bullets left," Rick exclaimed. "I can hold back any walkers for as long as I can, then I'll catch up."

"Look, we ain't gonna make it, OK?" Shane muttered, his voice bitter and angry.

"Gotta try, man," Otis stammered.

"You're gonna take these bags," Shane sighed, "and you and Rick are gonna go."

"I ain't leaving you behind." Otis' face scrunched up in disbelief.

"Shane, that's not happening," Rick snapped. "I'll stick behind and hold back the walkers. I've got some bullets left."

Shane sat up, turning to look at Rick. "You take the bags, Rick," he said. "You'll be able to go further than me."

"Shane..."

"I'm serious." Shrugging off his backpack, he handed it to Rick. "Otis, give me the respirator."

"I'm not leaving either of you," Rick exclaimed.

"If you don't go, Carl's gonna die. Do you want that?"

"I can't leave you here." Ricks shook his head, gripping his gun tightly.

Shane shook his head, pursing his lips. "I ain't gonna hold you back, Rick," he said. "I'm no good with this ankle. You gotta go."

The sounds of the walkers started getting closer, their silhouettes just barely noticeable. Looking over to where the walkers were coming, Rick gripped his gun as tightly as he could, his heart pounding painfully in his chest.

"Rick," Shane pushed, "this is your last chance to save Carl. You gotta make the choice, man."

Looking at Shane, a dreadful feeling washed over Rick. He knew, somewhere, Shane had a point. They were barely making a gap between themselves and the walkers, and with Otis not being very fast and Shane's ankle being injured, they wouldn't make it very far.

"Fine."

Nodding, Shane filled his backpack with all the important objects they gathered. "We'll try and catch up," Shane said. "Make it to the truck and try and meet us around the area there, OK?" Rick nodded. "If you don't see us, just go. Carl needs you more."

"I'll come back for you," Rick said, his voice low and determined.

"Go!"

The walkers sounded even closer than before. Rick sprinted off as fast as he could. Shane looked at Otis, who was still on the ground beside him. Knowing Rick had gone off with what Carl needed for the surgery, Shane knew only one of them would be able to make it to Rick in one piece.

 **-0-0-0-0-**

By the time Charlotte had finished giving Carl another dose of blood, Hershel gave her an examination, just to make sure nothing too serious was happening. She felt lightheaded—more severely lightheaded than before—and nauseas, but other than that, she was OK. No obvious signs of cardiac arrest, no symptoms of possibly slipping into a coma.

Lori had come back into the room, looking between Charlotte and Carl sorrowfully.

"I'll need to have a word with you when I'm done," Hershel said, looking at Lori.

After re-bandaging Charlotte's arm and helping her stand up, there was a pause when the sounds of an engine came in the driveway. Hershel helped Charlotte out of the room, placing her on the nearest sofa while Lori opened the front door. A friend of Hershel's was staying in Carl's room, keeping an eye on him.

T-Dog, Glenn, and Maggie followed Hershel and Lori onto the front porch. Rick and Shane stumbled up the front steps, making their way into the home.

"Carl?" Rick asked.

"There's still a chance," Hershel said. While the others followed Rick and Shane inside, Hershel paused for a moment, looking back at the truck before looking between Rick and Shane. "Otis?" His voice was soft, as if he were afraid to speak any louder.

Rick lowered his head, looking almost ashamed.

Shane shook his head.

"We don't say a word to Patricia," he whispered, his tone serious. "Not 'til after. I need her."

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

 **The Next Morning**

The night had gone on in a manner that Charlotte found difficult to sleep through. While it would've been smart to get some sleep in, given how much blood she had donated to Carl, she just couldn't. She could hear Patricia's cries over the loss of Otis; she could hear Lori trying to stifle _her_ sobs in Carl's room—things seemed to be an overemotional mess.

Charlotte, for the most part, stayed on the sofa Hershel helped her to, but she started feeling restless. She had to move. Getting up, Charlotte fought off the dizziness and urge to throw up. Blinking rapidly, Charlotte carefully walked out the front door and sat on the rocking chair near the door. The cold air felt nice, given she was going through periods of feeling overheated.

Leaning her head back, Charlotte closed her eyes and tried allowing herself to relax.

The nighttime noises were quieting. The sky was going between a darkish-light grey. The cold air was the only reminder that it was still relatively late—or early, depending on how one wanted to look at it.

News of Carl's stability had mingled in with the news of Otis' death, but it seemed like Otis' demise outweighed Carl's improvement.

When the front door opened, Charlotte felt a hint of irritation bubble inside her. She hardly had any time to really process all that was going on, and trying to find any way to have alone time was seemingly impossible. Opening her eyes, Charlotte saw Rick shuffling out, dark circles coloring his bloodshot eyes. He turned and saw her, his gaze dropping after a moment.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"You saved your son," Charlotte replied. "That's all that matters."

Nodding, Rick ran a hand through his hair.

"Don't beat yourself up," Charlotte sighed. "Deaths happen all the time nowadays."

"Otis was a good man," Rick exclaimed.

"I'm not saying he wasn't." Frowning, Charlotte looked at Rick closely. "I'm sure Otis was the most honorable man there ever was, but death has become our closest friend now. We can't control when it happens, or whatever or whoever causes it, but we have to learn—maybe even accept—that death will always be waiting for us."

Rick studied Charlotte carefully. He knew she was useful for her medical knowledge, but how much of what she was saying was true? He didn't know that much about the new world; he was still pretty inexperienced. Yeah, Rick could kill walkers without hesitating as much, but what if it came to anything that _wasn't_ a walker? Was that what Charlotte was implying? That, one day, everyone would have to grow accustomed to killing the living? Or that the living would have to grow accustomed to whatever side disaster could be thrown their way?

That was something he _definitely_ didn't want to think about.

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **Sorry for not having this chapter up sooner, but here it is! I may have a flashback to when Shane killed Otis, and hopefully it's not too similar to the show's adaptation. Honestly, if you guys feel like the chapters are too similar to the show in some areas, don't hesitate to leave a review or PM me.**

 **Do I own TWD? No. No I don't.**

 **Do you have a subplot you'd like to see written into the story? Leave a review or PM me!**

 **Do you have an OC you'd like to see written into the story? Leave a review or PM me!**

 **The idea of Rick accompanying Shane and Otis on their medical run for Carl's surgery was not my idea! It was the idea of a kind reviewer. Seriously, if you guys think of something that may spice up the story—maybe it's something that hasn't been seen in other TWD fanfics before** **—let me know! I'll have no problem putting it in. Even OCs are a great addition to the story.**

 **I digress.**

 **Leave a thought on anything I could improve on.**

 **Thank you.**

 **Alek Haydn**


	21. Chapter 21

_"I get it. I get it. I know how the world works, OK? And when it comes to the heart, everyone for themselves. Right?"_ -Harley Quinn; **Suicide Squad**

* * *

What felt like seconds later, the sun was already rising in the sky; any of the nighttime creatures had disappeared. Charlotte decided to go back inside, hoping there'd be something for her to do in there. Opening the front door, she was greeted with the startled face of Glenn. His eyes were slightly bloodshot, exhaustion evident in his features.

"Hey, I was just looking for you," he murmured, taking a step outside.

"Is something wrong?"

Shaking his head, Glenn removed his hat, twisting it in his hands in an almost anxious manner. "Hershel said we're going to hold a funeral for Otis later today," he said. "I've been telling the others..."

Nodding, Charlotte ran a hand through her hair. "Thanks," she sighed. "I'll go wash up."

Making her way around Glenn, Charlotte started making her way down one of the hallways, hoping to find a bathroom. When she started looking at the open rooms, she found herself getting a little frustrated. It didn't look like there were any bathrooms on the lower levels.

"What're you doing?"

Turning, Charlotte saw Maggie standing behind her. Maggie's eyes were red, puffy, and bloodshot, as if she'd been recently crying. "I'm looking for a bathroom," she responded.

"Second floor on the left." Maggie's response was almost void of emotion, her eyes cast downward. "Were you planning on showering?"

"Yeah."

"I'll loan you some of my clothes."

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

Charlotte would've been lying if she said she didn't appreciate Hershel's home having a functioning shower with hot running water. It felt like a lifetime ago when Charlotte felt something that soothing; and she wouldn't have minded staying in the shower longer if it hadn't been for the growing self consciousness she had about being a stranger in someone's home. She wanted to make sure everyone else who wanted to shower had some nice hot water.

Stepping out, Charlotte grabbed one of the clean towels and started drying herself off. All the dirt and grime that came off her body was probably the most refreshing thing about that shower; it was almost like she had washed away all the things she'd done, before Rick found her—despite how cliché that sounded. Wiping the steam off the mirror, Charlotte took a moment to see how she really looked not coated in dirt and filth. Her skin was a little red from the shower, but seemed to be tanned from the Georgia sun; her strawberry blonde hair seemed a little darker while damp, but it seemed less stiff compared to before. Charlotte could actually see little freckles dotting along her nose and cheekbones. She could see scars of all sizes littered across her arms and legs; the one that stood out the most being the one just inches above her right breast. That scar came from a man Charlotte had a brief fling with after Gavin's death. She temporarily joined his group, using her leverage as a woman to gain an advantage over him before robbing him of some of his supplies before trying to take off.

One of his men caught up to her. He tried stabbing her, but she was lucky enough to only get nicked by the blade. Sometimes Charlotte _swore_ she still felt phantom pains from that scar, but learned to ignore it.

Sighing, Charlotte dressed in the clothes Maggie loaned her before scooping up her dirtied clothes and leaving the bathroom. She was planning on possibly just burning her old clothes, considering how filthy they were. If anything, depending on how long she'd be staying on Hershel's farm, Charlotte could find some time to go out searching for something else to wear.

As she made her way downstairs, Charlotte ran into Beth. The young blonde had the obvious signs of someone who'd been crying; and it looked like she wasn't at good at trying to hide it like her sister.

"Everyone's outside," she said, her voice trembling. "We're putting together a gravesite for Otis."

Nodding, Charlotte tried for a comforting smile. "I'll be out in a moment," she said.

"Do you want me to wash those for you?" Beth looked at Charlotte's dirty clothes. "I don't mind."

"Oh...it's fine," Charlotte stammered. "I was planning on burning them. I don't think they can be cleaned."

Beth shook her head, holding her arms out. "I'll wash them," she said.

With a reluctant sigh, Charlotte handed her clothes over. "Thanks," she grumbled, before making her way outside.

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

It took Charlotte a minute to find where the others were, but when she did, she felt relieved. They were in the front yard, underneath one of the bigger trees, piling up whatever rocks they could find on the property near the trunk. Without saying a word to the others, Charlotte began helping; though she never said a word to Otis, she understood that he was respected by Hershel and his family; not to mention Rick seemed to hold him in high regards. As for _Shane_ , it was difficult to say what truly went through his mind when it came to the deceased man. Whenever Otis seemed to be mentioned, there was an almost glazed over look in his eyes and an expression would bubble over for a little bit.

The strangest thing was that after returning from the supply run, Shane shaved his head. Aside from the fact he seemed to react a bit oddly whenever Otis's name was mentioned, and the sudden shaving, he was also starting to act jittery. No one else seemed to notice the odd behavior, or if they did, they brushed it off as something else.

Not long after Charlotte started helping the others, a sound could be heard in the distance. It sounded as if it were coming from the street leading up into Hershel's driveway; and when the small group stopped to look, the only thing that could be seen over the shrubbery was the top of what looked to be a motorhome. After another minute or two of waiting, a motorcycle with a car and motorhome pulled up into the driveway, parking just a couple feet from the group. Daryl had been riding the motorcycle, leading the other two vehicles; while Dale and the others piled out of the motorhome and car.

With Rick and his people feeling a sense of relief at seeing the others, Hershel managed to get his family back inside the home while he observed for a moment. It was one thing having Rick and his family on his land while Carl recovered, but having more of his people showing up changed things. It made things complicated in Hershel's eyes.

Going over to Lori, he murmured about going in to check on Carl. She had nodded briefly before going to tell Rick. The two followed Hershel into his home while the others followed, collectively agreeing—without even speaking—to wait on the front porch of Hershel's home.

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

"How're you doing?" Dale sat next to Charlotte on the porch's steps. Charlotte was still rattled with exhaustion, but she was pushing it down, hoping she could make it through the day. It must've been obvious, though, just how tired she was.

"I've been better," she said. "It was a rough night."

"I can imagine." Shaking his head, Dale let out a sigh. "We were all worried."

"As far as I know, everything seems fine," Charlotte mumbled. "Carl made it through the night, that's what matters, right?"

Dale nodded.

"What about Sophia?" she asked. "Did you find her?"

"No," he sighed. There was an almost defeated look on Dale's face. "Daryl and Andrea checked the area last night; we don't know where she is."

Charlotte nodded. "She'll turn up eventually."

The two fell into a comfortable silence, and it gave Charlotte the opportunity to just ponder on everything that happened. One thing she seemed to forget—or at least push to the very back of her mind—was the strange noise she thought she heard in Hershel's home. It almost sounded like there was something—or some _one_ —in one of the bedrooms. Not to mention how Maggie acted when Charlotte was looking for a bathroom. Part of her tried chalking it up as Maggie being suspicious of what Charlotte had been doing, but there was another part of her that wasn't buying that excuse. There was something going on that Hershel's family wasn't telling.

Soon, twenty minutes seemed to roll on by in an agonizingly slow manner. The sun hung high in the sky, heating up the area in what felt like an overwhelmingly alarming rate. But, fortunately, when the twenty minute mark hit, the front door opened and Rick stepped out. Lori and Hershel weren't far behind. Everyone stood up, looking at the trio anxiously.

"How is he?" Dale asked.

"He'll pull through," Lori said. "Thanks to Hershel and his people."

"And Shane," Rick said.

"And _you_ ," Lori pressed, looking at her husband.

"We'd have lost Carl if it hadn't been for Shane." Rick looked at Lori, as if trying to communicate with her without saying anything. Lori's gaze came back hard.

The look that swept over Shane's face was that of almost embarrassment, but whether it was from the praise, it was hard to tell.

Carol embraced Lori out of relief; Dale patted Rick's back.

"How'd it happen?" Dale asked.

"Hunting accident," Rick exclaimed. "That's all—just a stupid accident."

Knowing that Carl would officially pull through his injury, everyone seemed to calm down some after that. It lifted a heavy weight off of everyone's shoulders.

"That's not the only thing," Rick said. "We lost someone—Hershel did—a good man."

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

While the others had been filled in about Otis, another kind of heaviness weighed down on their shoulders. Dale and the others didn't know Otis, but the grief they felt for him was intense and it was overwhelming. There had been apologies thrown Hershel's way, and while the older man accepted them, it didn't ease the pain he and his family felt.

"They're going to have a funeral for him," Rick explained, "right under that tree over there. I think it'd be for the best to pay our respects."

A murmured agreement floated amongst Rick's people.

"Let me get my Bible," Hershel said, his voice sounding grim. "Why don't you all get a head start? I'll be there soon enough."

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **First off, I am so, so sorry it took so long to post this chapter! Work has been bombarding me and I was hoping I'd get this done sooner. But, now that the chapter's up, hopefully you guys find some kind of enjoyment out of it.**

 **Do I own TWD? No. No I don't.**

 **If any of you are wondering when Charlotte's going to be interacting with the other characters in Rick's group—like Andrea, Daryl, Carol, maybe even Shane and Carl—don't worry, she'll be having some interaction with them soon enough. Once Carl's healed enough to be able to move around, I'll try and add in some more moments between himself and Charlotte. But if you've got ideas on how they can all spend time together—whether it be looking for Sophia or just them lounging about on Hershel's farm** **—leave a review or PM me.**

 **Adding onto that last part _(about PMs and reviews)_ , if you've got ideas for subplots or OCs you'd like to see written into the story, don't hesitate to review or PM me. Having the ideas of the reviewers mixed into the story is what keeps it interesting, in my opinion.**

 **Leave a thought on anything I can improve on.**

 **Sincerely,**

 **Alek Haydn**


	22. Chapter 22

_"Only on this earth for a short time, time,_

 _So don't go outside if you don't want to die, die,_

 _Just take our advice and hide,_

 _And scream YOLO to the sky,_

 _You oughta look out...,"_

YOLO; **by the Lonely Island**

* * *

Everyone had gathered around the pile of rocks, waiting for Hershel. It was quiet for the most part, though Patricia was trying her hardest to stifle her sobbing. Maggie tried comforting her, but it didn't seem to be doing much.

After a couple minutes, Hershel arrived dressed a little more formally and a Bible in one hand. Before he began, anyone who wanted to put a rock onto the growing pile; a kind of way to show their respects for Otis. After Beth placed hers, Hershel opened his Bible and started reading a verse.

"Blessed be God," he announced, "Father of our Lord, Jesus Christ. Praise be to him, for the gift of our brother Otis. For his span of years, for his abundance of character; Otis, who gave his life to save a child's, now more than ever, our most precious asset. We thank you, God, for the peace he enjoys in your embrace. He died as he lived. In grace." There was a moment of silence. "Shane, will you speak for Otis?" Hershel asked.

A look swept across Shane's face. He hadn't said much since the others arrived, mostly trying to keep to himself. It may have come off as a bit odd, given that Shane didn't seem to be that kind of person. But it wasn't until after Otis' death that Shane's entire character seemed to drastically change. When he looked at Hershel, almost like he was silently pleading with him to not let him speak, Shane quickly looked away, shifting on his feet. "I'm not good at it," he muttered. "I'm sorry."

"You were the last one with him," Patricia sobbed. "You shared his final moments. Please. I need to hear. I need to know his death had meaning."

There was a long pause. Shane's eyes scanned over everyone, as if he were looking for the right words to say. He shifted anxiously on his feet, wringing his hands together. Looking back at Patricia, seeing her still looking at him, he knew there was no way to get out of it. "We were about done," Shane said. "Almost out of ammo, we were down to pistols by then. I was limping. It was bad. Ankle all swollen up. 'We've got to save the boy', see, that's what he said. He gave me his backpack, he shoved me ahead. 'Run', he said. He said, 'I'll take the rear, I'll cover for you'. And when I looked back..."

Charlotte looked at Shane, studying his expressions. He seemed to be really troubled, his voice full of emotion but it didn't seem to be the right kind for the situation. He sounded anxious, uncertain, looking around to see if anyone was really paying attention to what he said. From what Charlotte could tell, the others seemed to believe his story. It's not to say she didn't believe him, but there was something about his story that just didn't quite add up.

Without saying a word, Shane limped forward, picked up a nearby rock, and added it to the pile. "If not for Otis," he said, "I'd have never made it out alive. And that goes for Carl, too. It was Otis. He saved us both." He paused to look back at Patricia. "If any death ever had meaning, it was his."

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

After the funeral, everyone kind of went their separate ways to think over what had happened. It had been a long morning, and a break from others seemed to be the best thing at the moment. Charlotte sat herself on the ground near another tree, just enjoying the outdoors. It was a beautiful day, despite the circumstances. Brushing some of her hair out of her face, Charlotte brought her legs up to her chest, her arms wrapping around them. As gorgeous as Hershel's land was—how untouched it was from everything on the outside—Charlotte couldn't help but feel a little uncomfortable on the complete _normalcy_ of it all. Charlotte expected something awful to happen at any given moment. Otis' death was a tragedy in itself, so was Carl getting shot, but Charlotte expected something _bigger_.

Letting out an almost frustrated sigh, Charlotte leaned her head against the trunk. Taking a moment to just clear her mind, Charlotte stood up and started walking in the direction of the house.

She was able to make it halfway before she noticed Rick leaving the house. When he noticed her, he started walking in her direction. Once the two met, Rick gave a slight nod. "I've been meaning to talk to you," he murmured, running a hand through his hair.

"About whether I want to stay." It wasn't a question. Charlotte had told Rick how long she was willing to stay, just to see how the group acted together. She stayed longer than necessary, but only for the benefit of seeing Carl live. Then there was also the fact that Sophia was still missing.

Rick nodded. "I won't hold it against you if you want to leave," he said. "You've done more for us than I could even think possible."

Charlotte gave a slight scoff. "I wouldn't say I've been much help," she murmured.

"You've wanted to help with finding Sophia," Rick exclaimed. "You gave Carl blood and you saved T-Dog. I wouldn't be able to repay you even if I tried."

"I wouldn't want you to." Charlotte's gray eyes glittered solemnly. "I said I'd stick around to see how you guys were; I guess I like what I see."

"You want to stay?"

Shrugging, Charlotte crossed her arms over her chest. "I may not be the brightest ray of sunshine," she said, "but you guys genuinely care about each other. It's been a while since I've seen that."

A hint of a smile appeared on Rick's face. "Well," he murmured. "I'm happy you chose to see it in us." He put a hand on Charlotte's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. "Welcome to the group."

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **It's shorter compared to the other chapters, I know, and it may not be the strongest chapter I've written, but I had an idea on this and I thought I'd get it down before I forgot. If you think that I'm writing the chapters too much like the show, don't hesitate to tell me.**

 **If I owned anything in TWD, that would be amazing. Sadly, I do not.**

 **If there's anything in the story that may come across as confusing, let me know and I'll try and clear it up as much as I can. I know I said I'd probably put in a flashback of when Shane killed Otis, but I just didn't see how I could write it without it being just a copy of what happened in the show.**

 **For any of you who have ideas for subplots or OCs, leave a review or PM me. I'd love to know what you want added to the story to make it interesting.**

 **Leave a thought on anything I should improve on.**

 **Thank you.**

 **Alek Haydn**


	23. Chapter 23

_"Is this not simpler? Is this not your natural state? It's the unspoken truth of humanity, that you crave subjugation. The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life's joy in a mad scramble for power, for identity. You were made to be ruled. In the end, you will always kneel."_ -Loki; **the Avengers**

* * *

Knowing she'd been accepted into the group, at least by Rick, almost gave Charlotte a sense of purpose. _Almost_. She had a faint understanding of how Rick was as a person; even coming to a certain, faint understanding on how Glenn, Lori, T-Dog, Shane, and Dale were as individuals, as well. But it wasn't enough. She didn't know Daryl, Andrea, Carol, or Carl enough to get a complete understanding of the entire group. Charlotte knew that she'd come to understand them in time, but she had to wonder how willing _they'd_ be to her curiosity.

Pushing the thought out of her mind, Charlotte decided to focus on it at a different time.

"We're about to go searching for Sophia," Rick sighed, after a moment's silence. "I spoke to Hershel, he said he'd help us look for her."

Nodding, Charlotte crossed her arms over her chest. She followed Rick over to where the others were starting to gather, Hershel laying down a map of the area on the hood of one of his trucks.

When Rick went over to the truck, Hershel placed his hands on his hips in an authoritative manner. "How long has this girl been lost?" he asked.

"This'll be day three," Rick said.

"This is the county survey map," Maggie said, approaching where the group started gathering. "Shows terrains and elevations."

"This is perfect," Rick sighed, "we can finally get this thing organized. We'll grid the whole area, start searching in teams."

"I can take up this area right here," Charlotte said, pointing to an area on the map.

"Not you," Hershel said. "Not today. You've given a little over three units of blood. You wouldn't be hiking five minutes in the heat before passing out." Hershel's gaze went to Shane. "And your ankle," he said. "Push it now, you'll be laid up a month, no good to anybody."

"Guess it's just me," Daryl said. "I'm gonna head back to the creek, work my way from there."

"I'll go with you," Rick said.

"I can still be useful," Shane said. "I'll drive up to the interstate, see if Sophia wandered back."

"All right," Rick concluded. "Tomorrow, then. We'll start doing this right."

"That means we can't have our people out there with just knives," Shane said. "They need the gun training we've been promising them."

"I'd prefer you not carrying guns on my property," Hershel said. "We've managed this far without turning this into an armed camp."

"With all due respect," Charlotte said, "you get a herd of rotters coming in here, how're you gonna defend the place?"

"Look, we're guests here," Rick said, giving Charlotte a look. "This is your property, and we _will_ respect that."

Without saying anything else, Rick took out his handgun and put it on the hood of the truck. A look swept across Shane's face, one bordering disbelief and frustration, before he placed his pistol next to Rick's.

"First things first," Rick said, "set camp, find Sophia."

"I hate to be the one to ask but somebody's got to," Shane exclaimed. "What happens if we find her and she's bit? I think we should all be clear on how we handle that."

"You do what has to be done." Rick looked down.

"And her mother?" Maggie asked. "What do you tell her?"

"The truth," Charlotte said.

"I'll gather and secure all the weapons," Shane said. "Make sure no one's carrying 'til we're at a practice range off-site. I do request one rifleman on lookout. Dale's got experience."

Hershel sighed, looking at the group solemnly.

"Our people would feel safer," Rick said, "less inclined to carry a gun." Nodding silently, Rick gave his thanks.

"That stuff you brought," Maggie asked, looking at Charlotte. "Got more antibiotics, bandages, anything like that?"

Charlotte shook her head. "Used what I could back on the highway for T-Dog," she responded. "Anything else was used up while I was here."

"We're running low already," Maggie said, looking at her father. "I should make a run into town."

"Not the place Shane and I went," Rick exclaimed.

"No." Maggie shook her head. "There's a pharmacy just a mile down the road. I've done it before."

Rick turned to look at the others, who were putting together tents nearby, before turning back to Hershel. "See our man there in the baseball cap?" he said. "That's Glenn, our go-to-town expert. I'd ask him along, just to be cautious."

Hershel and Maggie shared a look before Maggie nodded and walked off.

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

Charlotte had taken the time to write a little list for Glenn before he left, stuff that maybe Maggie would be looking for, as well. When she finished writing her list, she went over to where Glenn was, still helping the others put up tents, and gently nudged him.

When he turned, his eyes seemed to widen a little. "You're still here," he exclaimed.

A small, sheepish smile spread across Charlotte's face. "I might as well give you guys a chance, yeah?" she said, nervously chuckling.

Nodding, a smile came across Glenn's face; it was almost a boyish smile, and Charlotte had to admit it was adorable. Glenn just had a kind of boyish quality about him, and Charlotte hoped he didn't lose it. "That's awesome," he exclaimed. "Did you need help with anything?"

"Yeah." Handing him the list, she watched as he looked it over. "If you find any of that medicine at the pharmacy, I'd appreciate it. Don't bother staying any longer than necessary if you can't find it."

"And bandages?" he asked.

"I'm sure they'll be some," Charlotte responded. "I'd prefer gauze, especially for T-Dog and Carl, but if it's not there the biggest bandages they have will do."

Nodding, Glenn folded the list and put it in his pocket.

Saying her thanks, Charlotte turned to walk away before Glenn stopped her. "Do you have a place to sleep for the night?" he asked.

"I think I can borrow a blanket from Hershel," she said. "I never bothered with a tent; I didn't want to take up too much room in my backpack."

"Dale could let you sleep in the RV," Glenn suggested. "I know Andrea sometimes sleeps in there, but there should be enough room for you."

Shaking her head, Charlotte tried for a smile. "I don't want to intrude on anyone," she sighed. "I'll figure something out, thanks."

Before Glenn could say anything else, Charlotte walked away.

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

When Charlotte made it to the house, she decided to just knock on the front door. She knew she could just walk in, but she had a feeling Hershel didn't want Rick or his people on his property any longer than necessary, so barging into their house uninvited would make things potentially worse. When the door opened, Beth stood on the other end. Her hair was down and she looked almost exhausted.

"Sorry to bother you," Charlotte said, "but I was wondering if I could borrow a blanket for the night."

Nodding, Beth left the door opened slightly as she walked off. Charlotte continued to stand on the other end, feeling a little uncomfortable but trying to be patient. When Beth came back, she handed an old looking blanket to Charlotte. "It was my mom's," she said.

"Oh," Charlotte stammered. "I, uh, thank you. I'll be sure to clean it once we all leave."

With a hint of a smile on Beth's face, she closed the door without another word.

Walking down the front steps, Charlotte held the blanket carefully in her arms. After making down the steps, she jumped when she nearly bumped into Daryl. She hadn't been paying much attention, and she scolded herself for that. "Sorry," she muttered.

He gave her a somewhat heated glare. "Better watch out next time," he snapped.

"I said sorry, sweetheart," she snapped back. "Unless you didn't catch that."

There was a brief glaring match between them before Daryl scoffed and walked up the front steps.

Walking off to where the others were, Charlotte took a deep breath to calm herself down. Daryl seemed to be more reasonable when they were talking about the plans for Sophia, but Charlotte had to remind herself she didn't know him as well as she would've wanted. She knew, given his outward appearance, he was the typical Southern, backwater redneck. The way he spoke, how he dressed, the way he behaved; it all pointed to _redneck_.

 _Maybe he's just like that to people he doesn't know,_ she thought. It was a possibility, and Charlotte hoped Daryl's hostility earlier wasn't his most definite personality trait. _If you're going to be staying with this group, getting to know the others is important._

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **This wasn't my strongest chapter, and I know it took a while to post it, and I'm sorry for both those reasons. I just hope you guys found something good in this chapter.**

 **TWD isn't mine.**

 **The fact that TWD is on a midseason finale gets me a bit sad and a little upset! I just got used to it being back on television, and now that it's on break until February, I don't even know what to do until then. I'm excited on how everything's gonna go down with everyone against Negan; that's something to look forward to.**

 **Anyway, I digress.**

 **Leave a thought on anything I can improve on.**

 **Sincerely,**

 **Alek Haydn**


	24. Chapter 24

_"I like to think that I've got determination, and I'm fiercely protective of the people I love."_ -Andrew Lincoln

* * *

Charlotte made her way over to where Dale was, his RV stationed near a more shaded part of Hershel's property, not too far from where a picnic table was. For the most part, everyone was done putting up their tents, using the remainder of their time to prepare for wherever they were headed. When Dale noticed Charlotte, he gave a friendly smile.

"Anything wrong?" he asked.

"No, uhm...I was just wondering if there was enough room in your RV for me to sleep," she stammered. "Hershel's youngest gave me her mother's blanket, I don't wanna mess it up."

"Of course." Dale nodded. "There should be plenty of room in my RV if you need a place to stay."

Smiling, Charlotte nodded in return. "Thank you."

"You should probably be resting," Dale suggested, his expression growing concerned. "After helping out with Carl..."

"I appreciate your concern," Charlotte responded, "but I'm OK."

There was a moment of silence, and Charlotte considered just dropping Beth's blanket off in the RV and finding something to keep herself occupied, but Dale said something.

"So you decided to stay?" There was no malice or any ill-will behind his words, just plain curiosity. Charlotte could understand Dale's curiosity; having a new member of the group was probably a little foreign to them. They were a close-knit group, probably having met very early on.

"Yeah." Charlotte's grip on the blanket tightened a little. "I spoke to Rick; he said I was part of the group."

"That's good." A smile came across the older man's face. "I'm glad you decided to stay."

"Thank you." Charlotte tried sounding as sincere as possible. It was still too early to tell if Charlotte was really going to appreciate being apart of a group again; but, for the most part, those that Charlotte had the pleasure of at least _briefly_ getting to know seemed to ease some of her skepticism.

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

After some time had passed, and the sun was starting to get higher, showing how late in the day it was becoming, the group seemed to fall into a routine of their own. Glenn and Maggie had gone off to the mentioned pharmacy; Daryl had disappeared; Rick was staying close to Hershel's home; Shane and Andrea seemed to be socializing nicely; Lori and Carol were off doing their own thing; which left Dale, T-Dog, and Charlotte to go off and get water. Charlotte wasn't much of a fan when it came to sitting around and doing nothing, but she did come to realize that she _had_ been trying to distance herself enough to seemingly doing less than what she wanted. So, as a way to make up for that, she went off with T-Dog and Dale to gather water from a nearby well.

"Maggie said the property has five wells," Dale said. "This one's for cattle, but she said it was clean enough to drink."

"That's important," T-Dog panted. Despite his injured arm, he insisted on being responsible for wheeling the cartons to the well. Hershel had loaned one of his wheelbarrows so all the water cartons could be filled at the well, which the three of them thanked him profusely for. Even though Hershel had advised that Charlotte rest up, considering how much blood she gave to Carl, she wanted to make herself useful in some way. Sitting around and doing nothing just didn't sit well with her. She was feeling a little breathless, beads of sweat forming on her forehead, but she didn't feel too bad otherwise.

T-Dog, though, seemed to be suffering the most. They weren't even a quarter of the way to wherever the well was before he was out of breath and lagging behind. The three of them were already going at a decently slow pace, which only made them concerned for how much farther were they willing to go. But T-Dog _insisted_ on finishing their task. He didn't want to be seen as weak or helpless because of his injury; he wanted to keep providing for the group.

A silence had fallen over them as they continued walking. Eventually, after a couple more feet, Dale suggested they stop for a break. T-Dog didn't argue, but he looked a little frustrated. When he put the wheelbarrow down so he could catch his breath, he held his arm, as if to ease whatever pains or discomforts he was feeling.

Charlotte was able to use that little break to give herself a chance to gather some of her strength, which she appreciated.

Once everyone was reassured that they had gathered their strength to some extent, they continued their journey to the well.

"Where were you from before all this?" T-Dog asked, his voice sounding almost strained. The question was directed at Charlotte, she knew that much. She was the new kid, and it wasn't surprising that the others were curious about her beginnings.

"Virginia," she said. "But I was living at Tennessee when all this happened."

T-Dog let out an airy chuckle. "Makes sense," he muttered. "The way you talk, sounds real different than people around here do."

Charlotte couldn't help but laugh at that. "Well, I'm happy to know that," she said.

"Did you have any kind of job?" Dale asked.

"I was a waitress," she said. "It didn't pay too much, but it was still something."

"That's true," Dale said.

"What made you wanna be a nurse?" T-Dog asked.

"I found it interesting," she said. "Also, I had a cousin—I was really close with her—who was a nurse and it kinda inspired me." Letting out an almost harsh sounding laugh, Charlotte shook her head a little. "It's funny," she said, "I didn't think what I wanted to be before would be useful for anything."

"I think what a person was before all this is important," Dale said. "Whatever a person _used_ to be can benefit others in some way."

It was something to think over. Charlotte had a way of thinking that she considered simple; whatever someone had been in the old world didn't matter anymore. They could talk _all_ they wanted about what they were, how important it had been to them, etc., but it wasn't going to bring anything from the old world back. That was something Charlotte fit into her nostalgia theory. Thinking that way made people vulnerable to anything, and in the end, they may as well be dead.

Once they made it to their location, T-Dog put the wheelbarrow down, sweat still beading his forehead; he let his head down for a moment as he tried catching his breath. There was a pump in front of them, where they'd be able to get the water from the well.

"I'm not weak," T-Dog panted, "and I'm not a coward."

"We never said you were," Dale said.

"No," T-Dog exclaimed, still trying to catch his breath. "What I said on the highway—I don't know _what_ that was, where it came from. That wasn't me."

Charlotte took one of the water cartons and put it to the mouth of the pump while Dale got it working, water instantly filling it. Once it was full, Charlotte found a lid and screwed the carton shut while Dale got another carton.

"It's OK," T-Dog went on. "I'd rather you never told anybody about the stuff I said."

"What stuff?" Dale asked. "I couldn't get a word out of you all day."

T-Dog's eyes flickered to Charlotte for a moment before his gaze went back to Dale's. When the carton in Dale's hands was full, he screwed the lid on before Charlotte took it and got another one.

"Say, man," T-Dog sighed, "you think there's a snowball chance we'll actually find that little girl?"

"For the first time in my life, I'm betting on the snowball." Dale's tone sounded grim.

"There's still a possibility of her being found," Charlotte said. "It's slim at this point, but there's still a possibility."

"We do whatever we have to," T-Dog said. "I don't care if I have to comb the woods like Rambo or fetch a pail of water. Everyone kicks in, does their part."

Dale, after a few moments, left the pump to look over at an opening just a couple feet from where they were all standing; more than likely where the water was being kept. T-Dog had since taken up the responsibility of pumping the water into the containers. After another one was filled, he took a ladle that was near a pale full of water, scooping up some water and getting ready to sip.

"Do your part," T-Dog said, holding the ladle a little closer to his mouth, "don't complain."

"Is something wrong?" Charlotte called, looking over at Dale. He was looking very intently into the hole where the well was. The wood on top was so rotten that the wood had fallen apart, which accounted for the gaping hole in the ground.

Without so much as an explanation, Dale shot up and quickly ran over to where T-Dog and Charlotte were, knocking the ladle out of T-Dog's hands.

"I wouldn't drink that if I were you," he said gravely.

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **Let me know what you think of this chapter, OK? Constructive criticism is important for this story's development. If you thought this story was too similar to the show in any way, don't hesitate to let me know!**

 **Do I own TWD? No. No I don't.**

 **If you've got a potential OC or subplot you'd like to see written into the story, don't hesitate to PM me or leave a review on what you'd like added in. I like to think that a reviewer's input on something like that could really help the story move forward.**

 **Question time for the reviewers: I had a plan to maybe have the story end during season 6, when everyone manages to kill all the walkers that invaded Alexandria, and start it up a little while afterward in a sequel. Is that a good plan, or do you think I should end it a little earlier? Leave a review on what you think.**

 **Leave a thought on anything I can improve on.**

 **Sincerely,**

 **Alek Haydn**


	25. Chapter 25

_"Do you see the beauty of it? The inevitability? You rise, only to fall."_ -Ultron; **Avengers Age of Ultron**

* * *

After looking into the hole of the well, a feeling of dread filled them when they saw a walker sitting in there. It was bloated from the moisture of the well, its skin a bluish-gray color. Despite how clear the water in the containers looked, the walker made the water in the well look clouded. When the walker noticed the three of them, it started trying to move around, but it couldn't. It was too bloated to really do anything other than look up at them and snarl.

"I'll get the others," Charlotte said.

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

Charlotte tried moving as quickly as possible, and when she finally made it back to the campsite, she told about the condition of the well.

"There's a walker in the well?" Lori exclaimed.

"Yeah." Charlotte nodded, taking a deep breath in hopes of steadying herself. "Looks like it's been in there for a while."

"How are we supposed to get anything to drink?" Andrea asked.

"We'll figure something out," Rick said, trying to keep everyone calm. "What we need to do is figure out how to get the walker out of the well."

"You said it was in there for a while," Shane said, "what'd it look like?"

"It was all bloated and blue," Charlotte said. "Probably got all the moisture down there in its body. The thing could hardly move."

Sighing, Shane took off the hat on his head, running a hand on his shaved head.

"We should check it out first," Lori put in. "Then we can figure out what to do."

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

Everyone but Rick followed Charlotte to where Dale and T-Dog were waiting. The sun was starting to lower in the sky, indicating just how late in the day it was. When they made it to the opening in the ground, Dale shone a flashlight down, causing the walker to look back up at them.

"Looks like we've got us a swimmer," Dale said.

They stood around the well for a moment, debating on what would be the best solution to take it out; but the only thing they seemed to agree on was having someone go down, but anything after that was still unsure. At whatever point during their debate, Glenn and Maggie had returned from their trip, having come over to where the others were gathered around the well.

"How long do you think it's been down there?" Glenn asked, after being filled in.

"Long enough to grow gills," Andrea sighed. "We can't leave it down there. God knows what it's doing to the water."

"We got to get it out," Shane exclaimed.

"Easy," T-Dog sighed. "Put a bullet in its head."

"And have it contaminate the water even more?" Charlotte said.

"I'll get a rope," Shane said.

"Whoa, whoa," Maggie snapped. "No."

"Why not?" Glenn asked. "It's a good plan."

"It's not a good plan," Charlotte sighed.

"It's a stupid plan," Andrea exclaimed. "Like you said, though, if that thing hasn't contaminated the water yet, blowing its brains out will finish the job."

"She's right," Shane said. "Can't risk it."

"So it has to come out alive?" T-Dog asked.

Shane shrugged. "So to speak," he said.

"How do we do that?" Glenn asked.

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

It took a little more debating before Maggie said that her father had some meat in their fridge that he was saving to cook at a later time.

"We could use that as a bait," Maggie said. "See how it reacts."

"It's worth a shot," Lori said.

When Maggie went off to get the meat, the others stayed close to the well, looking at the walker in disgust. It continued to splash around in the water, trying to find a way up to where the living people were. Since the well was relatively deep, any smell that was coming from the walker didn't reach where the others stood.

"We may have to find another way to get water," Glenn said.

"There's still that creek," Charlotte suggested. "Just heat it up and it should be good to go."

"She said there were other wells on the property," Dale said.

"Still good to have our options," Charlotte murmured.

It took about ten or fifteen minutes before Maggie came back with a slab of raw meat. She'd also taken the liberty of grabbing some rope over there.

When they tied up the meat, Shane and Glenn carefully had the meat go down to where the walker was. It simply looked at the meat for a moment before turning its attention elsewhere. It wasn't even a _little_ fascinated by the bait.

"He's not going for it," Dale said.

"Maybe 'cause a canned ham don't kick and scream when you try and eat it," T-Dog said.

"He's right," Lori said. "There's a reason the dead didn't come back to life and start raiding our cupboards."

"We need live bait," Charlotte said.

Without even speaking or agreeing on who'd be the one to go down, everyone turned and looked at Glenn. When he realized what was going on, his shoulders slumped, an almost defeated look on his face.

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **I know it took a bit to get this chapter up, but hopefully you guys enjoy it anyway. Let me know what you think should go on with Charlotte being added to the group.**

 **TWD isn't mine.**

 **If you've got an OC or a subplot you'd like to have added to the story, don't hesitate to leave a review or PM me.**

 **The one thing I'm hoping for is that this story will at least last until the last half of season 7 comes back in February. It always feels like the first half of the new seasons get cut off too soon. I don't know, I could be overanalyzing it.**

 **Anywho.**

 **Leave a thought on anything I can improve on.**

 **Sincerely,**

 **Alek Haydn**


	26. Chapter 26

_"Don't give up,_

 _I won't give up,_

 _Don't give up,_

 _No, no, no...,"_

The Greatest; **by Sia**

* * *

"Have I mentioned that I really like your new haircut?" Glenn was sitting near the edge of the well, looking about as anxious as the others were willing to expect. They tried making sure Glenn was tied as tightly as possible, and that there was a good angle to have him lowered into the well. Shane was currently making sure the rope was put on right. "You have a nice shaped head," Glenn joked, though it sounded a little weak.

"Don't worry about it, bud." Shane gave Glenn a pat on the back once he was certain it was secure. "We're gonna get you out of here in one piece."

" _Living_ piece," Glenn pressed. "That living part is important."

After Glenn had accepted—although he hadn't been given much of a _choice_ —on being the live bait for the walker, a plan had to be devised on how well would they be able to _slowly_ —and the slow part was _very_ important—get him into the well to get the walker out. It took up almost a half hour of time, but once there was an agreement, that part of the plan was put into action. The rope would be wrapped around a nearby pipe that _(even though it was quite rusty)_ would be part of the support for Glenn.

"Nice and slow, please," Glenn begged.

"We got you," Andrea said.

While the pipe would help with the support, it was up to the others to keep the rope in line. They had to use their added support to make sure the rope stayed up and Glenn went down as nicely as possible.

"You people are crazy," Maggie exclaimed. She had been the only one who didn't want to contribute.

"You want it out or not?" Charlotte exclaimed.

"Give us an eye there, Maggie," Dale suggested.

When she walked over to the well's opening, a look swept across her face; but it didn't look like one of disgust. While observing Maggie's facial expressions may have come across as mildly _fascinating_ —considering what was going on at the moment—everyone's main concern was Glenn. He carefully lowered himself into the well, still looking as anxious as ever.

"Doing OK?" Maggie called.

"Yup!" Glenn's voice called. "Doing great."

The sound of the walker could be heard even from outside of the well, which showed just how much of an influence a living being had on it. It was chilling, knowing just how bloodthirsty those things could be.

One reason why Charlotte couldn't _stand_ them.

"Little lower," Maggie instructed. "Little more."

And that's what they did. They carefully put out a little more at a time, keeping it nice and easy and making sure Glenn had enough room and time to do what he needed to do with the walker. Mostly everyone was confident in the plan, and they were hoping— _praying_ —that Glenn would be out in one piece and the walker would be handled with. But when the rusted pipe the rope was tied around suddenly fell over—possibly from the weight of the others—there was a millisecond of pause, as if to take in what just happened, before anyone really started reacting.

Glenn let out a sharp cry; the others started screaming, trying to do something. The pipe had completely been ripped from the ground, the weight of Glenn in the well causing everyone to stumble forward—T-Dog and Shane falling on the ground—trying to stop Glenn from falling.

"Get me out of here!" Glenn shouted.

At that point, everyone was at the base of the well, bunched together, trying to stop the pipe from going in. T-Dog had a death grip on it, trying his hardest not to let go. Everyone else was looking for a way to help, to give their support so it wasn't just T-Dog doing all the work. The struggling went on for what felt like a lifetime. Glenn's cries mixed with the walker's snarls which added onto the growing screams and cries of everyone around the well. Soon, T-Dog managed to find some footing, which meant everyone could grab onto an end of the pipe or hold onto T-Dog's shoulders, while pulling back as far as possible.

When Glenn managed to get a hand up, anyone who wasn't pulling on the rope grabbed him and practically yanked him out. Glenn was deathly pale, panting hard, his eyes wide with fear.

Charlotte rushed over, with everyone else already beginning to surround him, and managed to catch his attention. "I need to see if you're OK," she exclaimed, trying to talk over everyone else. Nodding, Glenn scrambled so he was at least sitting down. "Take your shoes and your socks off," Charlotte instructed. "Roll up your pant legs."

When he did, Charlotte did an examination, trying to be as thorough as she possibly could. She didn't see any noticeable scratch marks—though she had to keep in mind if the walker down there could even scratch in its condition—nor did she see any bite marks. Looking at his hands and arms, she inspected for any kind of damage there; when she didn't see anything, she let out a sigh.

"You're good," she said. "You're good."

There seemed to be a sense of relief that he was OK, but also frustration at the failure of the plan.

"Back to the drawing board," Dale sighed.

"Says you," Glenn exclaimed, sounding smug but still terrified. One of Glenn's hands had still been gripping the rope, and when he tugged on it, there was a tension. As if...there was something on the other end.

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

Charlotte liked to believe she had encountered every kind of rotter there was imaginable. _All_ the walkers she'd encountered had been on land; having certain levels of decay—at least in various stages of the beginning and middle levels. But never— _never_ —had Charlotte encountered a _water_ ridden rotter. From the looks of it, the rotter must've been in the well for a _long_ time; it was heavy, almost impossible to try and get out of the well. It took the entire group tugging on the rope just to make it go a few inches. Eventually, Maggie had to get one of the horses she owned to help pull the walker out of the well.

"Come on, guys!" T-Dog snapped. "Pull!"

"Come on, y'all!" Shane shouted.

They all continued tugging, trying to encourage each other to keep going. Soon, the walker's growls could be heard getting closer to the opening of the well. T-Dog had gone over to make sure it got out in one piece. Once it was halfway out of the well, they could all see just how disgusting it really looked. It was severely bloated, its skin bluish gray, probably weak from all the time spent down in the well. Unfortunately, they saw just how weak the walker's skin was when it ripped in half after being tugged on the edge of the well. The top half of the walker had been easily pulled over the well; and much to their irritation, the lower half—along with all its blood—fell back into the well.

The stench started to heavily fill the air, causing the others to try and cover their noses.

"We should seal off this well," Dale said.

"What should we do about...," Andrea started, but was cut off when T-Dog started bashing the walker's head in. Once it was really dead, T-Dog shot a look in their direction.

"Good thing we didn't do anything stupid like shoot it," he said.

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

When everyone made it back to camp, still stunned and a little frustrated by the whole ordeal, plans went underway to start looking for Sophia. Even though Rick wanted the search done the next day, there didn't seem to be anyone who wanted to wait that long. Shane said he'd take Carol to the highway, just in case Sophia may have come back. Charlotte said she'd go with him, just in case Sophia needed medical attention. Andrea volunteered to go, as well.

Shane said to bring food and water and something to write a message on. When the food and water was gathered—they used whatever bottled water they had left for the trip—they set out. As for what they'd use as a message for Sophia, they'd figure it out when they got there.

The overall drive was quiet. No one was really in the mood to be talking.

Charlotte leaned her head against the window, allowing her mind to wander. The past couple days seemed to be a blur; how Charlotte managed to end up where she was almost felt...unbelievable. After believing that people were so useless in the apocalypse, she had agreed to be apart of a group she hardly knew. She wanted to believe that her decision to stay with Rick and the others was a good one to make, but it was still too early to tell. She could see a goodness in them, she could see just how much they cared for each other just on how dedicated they seemed on finding Sophia. Unlike the last group of people Charlotte had come across—the ones she managed to rob—she didn't see any reason to believe Rick or his people should be manipulated.

 _Get to know them and observe them,_ she thought. _Then you'll know what you really want to do._

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **If there's any confusion in this chapter, let me know. Hopefully it was at least decent, let me know what you think, OK?**

 **TWD isn't mine.**

 **Just to clear up any minor things that may come across as unclear, Charlotte's still a bit skeptical about Rick and the gang. She knows they're good people, she knows they care about each other, but she's not sure how she really feels about it all. She didn't believe people were useful in the apocalypse. Charlotte is willing to give Rick and Co. a chance, though.**

 **Leave a thought on anything I can improve on.**

 **Sincerely,**

 **Alek Haydn**


	27. Chapter 27

_"The way I see it, every life is a pile of good things and bad things. The good things don't always soften the bad things, but vice versa, the bad things don't always spoil the good things and make them unimportant."_ -11th Doctor; **Doctor Who**

* * *

When they made it to the highway, they gathered the food and water and put it on a car's hood nearest to the woods. Andrea found a white marker to write on the windshield, _Sophia stay here, we will come every day_. Shane and Charlotte managed to find some other essentials for Sophia, in case she came back to the highway. Shane found some blankets, Charlotte found a flashlight that still functioned. When they brought the essentials back, putting it next to the food and water, they watched as Carol looked at everything solemnly.

Andrea walked up to her, looking at everything before glancing at Carol hesitantly. "We'll come again tomorrow," she said. "You know, there's always the chance..."

"Don't," Carol sighed. "I really don't want to hear it anymore, Andrea. Save the thoughts and prayers."

"You never know, Carol," Shane put in.

When she didn't respond, Shane, Charlotte, and Andrea went back to the car. Carol stood there for a moment longer, taking in everything.

It almost broke Charlotte's heart, knowing that even Carol was starting to give up on finding her daughter.

— **Us Against the World** **—**

"We're gonna have to start teaching y'all how to shoot," Shane said, once Carol made it back to the car. "Hershel don't want it on his property, so we're gonna have to find someplace else to do it on."

"Does that mean we're getting our guns back?" Andrea asked.

"No." There was a firmness in Shane's voice. "Rick doesn't want us having guns on Hershel's property. I requested Dale keep his shotgun, just when he's on lookout."

"So we only have guns when we're practicing?" Charlotte asked.

Shane looked through the rearview mirror, his gaze going to Charlotte. She seemed to have considered herself part of the group and he wasn't sure what to think about that. It may be a good thing to have a new member to the group, but there was a lot about her he didn't know; there was a significant amount of information possibly none of the other group members knew. While there was some part of him that wasn't too sure about Charlotte, there was another part of him that was paying attention to her features. She was young, probably a few years older than Glenn. Even though she was a little on the thin side, probably due to lack of food, her features were rather pleasant in his opinion.

With everything that was going on between him and Lori, the relief he felt when she told him to stay but the confusion on her more friendly demeanor to him, Shane felt as if he needed a way to...relieve himself of some of the conflict he was feeling.

Then he forced himself back to reality.

"Yeah," he murmured.

"I still don't like it," Andrea said.

"Better than nothing," Shane said; his tone almost authoritative. "We're being allowed to practice our guns, which is something we _all_ need to improve on. Knives ain't gonna help us out if a big herd of walkers show up."

Charlotte made sure to keep her mouth shut. She wanted to mention how her knives helped her out of more situations than she cared to admit, but she had a feeling Shane wouldn't want to listen.

Instead, she chose to keep quiet and listen to whatever nonsense Andrea was talking about.

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

The drive had gone on in silence after a while. Andrea soon gave up on her campaign—at least for the meantime—to be able to have her gun on Hershel's property. In all honesty, Charlotte found Andrea's behavior to be a tad childish. If something didn't go her way, or if she didn't like the outcome of something, she'd complain about it until the situation was altered to fit her.

But that was Charlotte's personal opinion. She didn't know Andrea as well as the others.

When the car came to a stop, Charlotte was jolted out of her thoughts. They were on a dirt road with some woods on either side.

"This is the edge of Hershel's property," Shane said. "We'll use this for our practice."

When they got out, getting their weapons ready, Shane led them to the location. There were no walkers, luckily, and the walk seemed to be easier than they thought it'd be.

Once the trees started thinning up ahead, they could see a small wooden fence appear in the middle of an open field.

"We can hang targets along that fence line there," Shane said. "That rise, it gives a natural backstop. It's a good idea."

"Thanks," Andrea said. She had given the suggestion of at least finding an area close enough to Hershel's property that they would be able to go back in a hurry if something arose. "So how long before I can carry?"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Shane chuckled.

While they continued talking, Charlotte glanced over at Carol. She looked just as solemn as she did back at the highway.

"Are you holding up OK?" Charlotte asked, making sure to keep her voice low.

Carol looked over at Charlotte, almost looking surprised, but still looking overwhelmingly solemn. "I'll be fine," she said.

"I have to say, I admire you, Carol." Charlotte tried for a smile, but she wasn't sure how convincing it looked. "You're a strong woman."

A look swept across Carol's face, one Charlotte could easily see was uncertainty and disbelief. Carol's mousy personality, her way of going through everything in an almost invisible manner, was something the group seemed to be accustomed to. Charlotte had to wonder what had happened to Carol that she'd be so meek and see herself as something so small.

"I'm not strong," she murmured.

"I can't say how many people would be willing to do what you're doing." Charlotte tried again for a smile. "You care deeply for your daughter, you're risking so much in order to find her. _That's_ what makes you strong."

The closer Charlotte looked at Carol, the more she started to notice tears forming in the other woman's eyes. It was like Carol wasn't used to getting compliments.

"It was more than my husband would have done," she said softly. "I'm just grateful that you're all helping."

The two women shared a look, smiling to each other.

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **It took a bit to get this chapter up, I know, but hopefully you guys found some enjoyment in it. It looks like Charlotte and Carol may be showing signs of a possible friendship.**

 **TWD isn't mine.**

 **If you've got ideas for a potential subplot or OC you'd like to see written into the story, don't hesitate to let me know, OK? Ideas from the reviewers is important.**

 **Leave a thought on anything I should improve on.**

 **Sincerely,**

 **Alek Haydn**


	28. Chapter 28

_"Think about it. What if it's the last day on Earth for you? For someone you love?"_ -Savior; **Walking Dead**

* * *

Carol and Charlotte started walking at the same pace, observing the landscape. Andrea and Shane continued their little conversation on when Andrea can use a gun freely, and while it was easy to ignore the complaints she was putting out, Shane _was_ giving some good points on the necessities of using a gun.

"Paper targets is one thing," he said, "easy to hit what ain't moving. But taking down an assailant, one that's trying to kill you, it's different. They say, in that kind of situation, things _slow_ _down_. That's crap. They speed up. Adrenaline. It'll cripple you if you let it. You need to use your instinct. You got to rule it out. Because somebody is gonna die, and you'd better hope you're the one making that decision."

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

It took a bit to get back to the main part of the property, mostly because Shane wanted to do a little more investigating of their potential shooting area. Charlotte had to admit, the place seemed to have what it took. The wooded area could hold off any rotters that may come through, and the fence was in an open field, so it'd be easier to do some actual shooting practice.

Not only that, but inspecting the area seemed to keep everyone's minds off of Sophia, even if it _was_ just for a moment. It was a tad depressing, in Charlotte's point of view, knowing that the group, for the most part, was looking for any way to keep their minds off Sophia for just a moment. The young girl had been missing for a total of three days, and it was taking an emotional turn on so many people. Tensions were starting to rise, mingling in with the worry the others had for Carl's health. How much longer could they keep up the search before it started putting their survival at risk?

That was an even _riskier_ thought to have. How could _anyone_ tell Carol that? She was becoming a bit disheartened with the outcome of the search, but there _had_ to be a glimmer of hope that her daughter would be found. Any mother— _any_ parent, hopefully—would want to keep the hopes of their missing child being alive as the top priority.

Charlotte couldn't personally have any opinion like that. She'd never had children of her own. But she liked to think that, if she or her brothers went missing, her parents would go into that mentality that their kids would be alive and nothing terrible happened to them.

Letting out a sigh, Charlotte crossed her arms over her chest. She liked to _think_.

Pushing those thoughts aside, Charlotte tried keeping herself more focused on the present. She was going to help search for Sophia, she was going to make herself useful for her new group. Two simple goals.

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

Once they were officially back at camp, Carol went into Dale's RV. Charlotte would have gone in there, as well, if she didn't feel as if she were to intrude on Carol. Even if they had shown signs of getting along, Charlotte still had some wariness about the group as a whole. She wasn't sure how to react to most of them. It felt...confusing, really.

Instead, Charlotte opted to go in the house to see if her clothes had been washed and then to check on Carl's condition.

As it would turn out, Glenn and Maggie had gone on another errand, and arrived back just a couple minutes after Shane and his little group returned. Then Daryl came back.

Seemed like they all had the right idea on when to call it a day.

By the time Charlotte made it to the front steps of the house, Lori was hurrying down, giving a slight nod of acknowledgement Charlotte's way. She didn't even have a moment to respond before Lori practically jogged over to where Glenn was getting off the horse. There was a look of almost disappointment and maybe even embarrassment on Glenn's face, which almost made Charlotte wonder what had happened.

Maggie and Hershel had a moment's interaction before she went started making her way into the house.

"Your clothes are clean," she said, catching up to Charlotte. "They should be dried by now."

It took Charlotte a moment to respond. "Thank you," she said. "I'll be sure to wash your clothes. I appreciate you loaning them to me."

Shaking her head, Maggie threw the teensiest smile possible Charlotte's way. "It's OK," she sighed. "I'll wash it. Don't worry about it."

After waiting near the front door, Charlotte waited for Maggie to put her belongings down before going to get Charlotte's clothes. Even though it took probably five minutes, it felt longer. The idea that Maggie's home was so clean and untouched by everything still settled wrong in the pit of Charlotte's stomach. When Maggie showed up with Charlotte's clothes, folded and looking a lot cleaner than Charlotte ever remembered, a small smile appeared on her face.

"Thank you," Charlotte said, taking the clothes out of Maggie's hands.

"No problem."

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

Finding the bathroom, Charlotte took off Maggie's clothes and tried to fold them as neatly as possible. Maggie had said that Charlotte could just leave the clothes she borrowed on the bathroom counter and it'd be handled with shortly.

When Charlotte unfolded her clothes, she almost felt awestruck. She couldn't remember a time where she could actually _see_ what her clothes looked like. She had gotten _so_ used to them looking filthy that it just didn't matter to her what state they were in. What Charlotte saw made her feel amazed at just how well her clothes had been cleaned. There were still a few stains that just wouldn't be washed out, but other than that, it looked almost new.

 _I may come to like it hear after all,_ she thought.

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **How was this chapter? Was it good? Was it bad? Was it meh? I know the chapters seem to be a bit short and I haven't gone very deeply into Charlotte's background, but I will eventually. Other than that, if there's anything confusing about the chapters, let me know in a review or a PM and I'll try and explain it as best I can.**

 **TWD isn't mine.**

 **Let me know if you've got subplots or OCs you'd like to see added into the story. Leave a review or a PM on the ideas you have.**

 **Leave a thought on anything I can improve on.**

 **Sincerely,**

 **Alek Haydn**


	29. Chapter 29

_"To be perfectly honest, I like pressure. It's something I find exciting. And I am the kind of personality that gets very bored very easily. The work I try and involve myself with is ordinarily determined by how much it sort of frightens me."_ -Taron Egerton

* * *

When night came in, it came slowly and rather uneventfully. The group dispersed to their designated sleeping area, Hershel and his family went into their house for the night. Maggie and Glenn had returned earlier on, the two separating as the day had progressed. Charlotte had noticed something slightly different between the two, but she wasn't sure if she was imagining it or not. But, eventually, she went on to mind her own business.

Carol and Lori went on to make a quick dinner—heating up some canned beans for the group—before everyone had gone back to doing their own thing.

And by the time everyone was getting themselves ready for bed—or at least trying to get a few hours in before watch—Charlotte found herself getting just a little crowded in Dale's RV. Carol and Andrea slept in there, with Dale sleeping near the front, and while three people wouldn't have bothered Charlotte much, she just felt like the RV was suffocating her. She needed to get some air.

Wrapping Beth's blanket around her shoulders, Charlotte quietly stepped out and stood close to the RV, not wanting to wander too far. Looking around, Charlotte took in the details of the nighttime scenery. Though, it wasn't like she could take in much; she could barely see a foot in front of her. But that didn't mean she couldn't admire the sounds. Hearing the bugs chirping, maybe even the occasional owl hooting, was enough to at least _dim_ the feelings Charlotte had. When she'd been on the road, Charlotte had grown accustomed to not sleeping for multiple nights in a row. Her longest time without sleeping had been three and a half days. That had been after she robbed the last group she'd been in. She had been scared at the thought of being caught by them. Not to mention she had to worry about the injury she got—a cut, not too deep, but still deep enough to get infected if not treated properly.

As it would turn out, Charlotte wouldn't see or hear from that group again. Others would have probably said Charlotte had some kind of _guardian angel_ , but she found that to be a load of crap. Charlotte didn't believe in any kind of higher power, she believed in what she could do for herself.

A slight breeze drifted by, causing Charlotte to involuntarily shiver.

When the door to the RV opened, Charlotte jumped, instinctively going for where she'd normally keep her knife. That was when she realized her first mistake. She had forgotten to take her knives.

"What're you doing out here?" Andrea's hushed voice filled Charlotte's ears, making her let out a slightly relieved sigh. But that didn't stop the adrenaline.

"I needed the air."

Andrea came and stood next to her, a look sweeping across her face. "It's dangerous to be out here at night," she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Charlotte shrugged. "I'm used to staying up at night," she said. "I used to do it all the time before." Turning to look at Andrea, Charlotte tried for a smile. "Besides, I don't know if anyone's keeping watch."

Letting out an airy chuckle, Andrea nodded. "It's still important to get some sleep. Especially if we're going to look for Sophia _and_ practice with guns."

Humming in response, Charlotte shrugged again. "You're right."

A silence fell between them. Neither made an attempt to move, and that didn't seem to bother Charlotte in the slightest.

"How long were you out there?" Andrea asked, her voice still hushed.

"For a while," Charlotte said. "It's important, being able to go by yourself. That's when you know how you really are."

"Sounds like suicide to me."

"I had to learn a lot about myself when I was alone," Charlotte murmured. "What would I do if someone tried attacking me? If I had to choose between _my_ life or someone else's, would I let _them_ die or me? Those were the big questions I had to ask myself. Who would I let die so I _might_ live?"

"You made your decision, though?" Andrea asked. "You saved Carl. It probably wasn't easy, but you did."

Charlotte didn't respond. It took her a few moments before she decided to speak again. "Not long after I left my first group," she said, "I did travel by myself for a while; then I met another group. I had no intentions of staying with them, I was just going to use them for their resources. I planned on stealing as many things from them as I could."

"Why?" There was a tone in Andrea's voice that made Charlotte's stomach twist. It sounded almost like judgment.

"They had things I needed," Charlotte responded, shrugging nonchalantly. "Sometimes abandoned towns or cities won't have that one thing you need. There's always someone else who has it."

"What did you do?"

"I got close to the leader. I gained their trust. Once I was _positive_ they trusted me, I took whatever was important and ran. They caught up and cut me, left a nasty scar. I still managed to get away."

There was a silence before Andrea spoke again. "Are you planning that with us?" she asked, her voice sounding almost harsh.

"No." Charlotte looked at her. "I may have some respect for Rick, but he's a married man. What I did with that other group, it was for resources. I had no intentions of staying. You guys look out for each other. You care. I don't want to mess that up."

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

 _Charlotte looked at the group of men surrounding her. They were genuinely pissed off. If Charlotte hadn't already been feeling terrified, she would've been scared shitless. She shouldered her backpack again; it felt heavier than it ever had before. The group had been easy to manipulate; they were mostly men, and in the world they were currently living in—one where the survivors were relying on instinct mostly—a man's instinct could be molded to fit someone's needs. If it's done right, that is. It had taken Charlotte a_ _long_ _time to get them to trust her. She had to use a little feminine charm on some of them—not really going beyond some flirting, maybe some empty promises thrown around_ _—but it worked._

 _In no time, Charlotte managed to manipulate the leader's trust. Freddie, the leader, was a rather overconfident man. He took pride in his appearance, in his ability to lead his group. If anything, Charlotte couldn't have picked a better person to have under her thumb. Freddie was the kind of guy who would do anything to impress any woman who showed interest in him. Only two times since Charlotte and Freddie had been a "thing" did it escalate into something intimate, despite Freddie wanting more. Freddie found the whole ordeal groundbreaking; Charlotte hadn't been that impressed. But she had pretended relatively well._

 _Needless to say, there had been a lot of "heartbreak" when the group found themselves without a lot of their supplies and Freddie found himself without his "girlfriend". It shocked Charlotte that they managed to find her._

 _"What're you doing, Charlie?" Freddie barked, crossing his arms over his chest._

 _A strained smirk came across Charlotte's face. "What does it look like?" she said._

 _"I don't think you understand just how awful it feels," Freddie said slowly, his eyes narrowing slightly, "to realize that my girl stole from us and ran off."_

 _"'Your girl'?" Charlotte exclaimed._

 _Freddie's hazel eye blazed with fury. "Yeah. My girl," he snapped. "You're mine, Charlie."_

 _Rubbing her face in exasperation, Charlotte looked at them with almost exhausted eyes. "Freddie, I was using you," she said, emphasizing each world. "You're too cocky for me. That's not going to help you survive out here."_

 _The intensity of Freddie's anger and rage had become so prominent, that it oozed into the air heavily, nearly choking everyone else._

 _"Look, I'll give back the things I stole," Charlotte lied, "but you have to promise to let me go." She tried making herself sound scared, almost petrified, at Freddie's growing instability. Part of her fear was real, she was scared on what would happen._

 _The sounds of groaning and shuffling caught there attention. A small herd of rotters appeared out of the underbrush, clearly drawn to the noise Freddie had been causing._

 _"Ren, take her back," Freddie exclaimed, getting a handgun out. "Make sure she puts everything back."_

 _Ren DiMaggio was a relatively heavy British man who was older than Freddie. Freddie himself had to be somewhere in his late twenties, early thirties, having some years on Charlotte. Ren, on the other hand, could've been Freddie's father. The middle aged man clearly didn't like being told what to do, but he knew better than to argue against his leader. Grabbing Charlotte's arm, he yanked her away from the direction of the rotters and back to the camp. Once they had managed to outrun the rotters and were clearly far enough away from the others, Charlotte yanked her arm out of Ren's._

 _The relationship between Ren and Charlotte hadn't always been great. The two hardly spoke, but Ren seemed to see right through Charlotte's little flirting techniques. What surprised Charlotte the most was that Ren hadn't told anybody._

 _"You brought this on yourself," he muttered, his voice gravelly. Digging through his shirt pocket, Ren pulled out a box of cigarettes. Once he had one lit and in his mouth, he started walking slower._

 _Charlotte had been spending her time trying to figure out a way to escape, being in no mood for the older man's little spats. Charlotte knew Ren had a nasty habit for smoking, and that it was starting to catch up to him. He'd start coughing violently, sometimes blood spattering out of his mouth. As far as Charlotte was concerned, he was a dead man walking._

 _When Ren had come to a stop to have one of his coughing fits, that was when Charlotte had her opportunity to run._

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **Sorry for the delay in having this chapter up, but hopefully you guys like it. I'm trying to establish at least** **some** **kind of relationship—whether it's friendly or not** **—before I start any kind of relationships between other characters. I hope that m** **akes sense.**

 **I own nothing in TWD.**

 **Leave a thought on anything I can improve on.**

 **Sincerely,**

 **Alek Haydn**


	30. Chapter 30

_"You will die, die, die,_

 _Now it's time for me to take apart,_

 _Your aching heart...,"_

-Shiny; **Moana**

* * *

Charlotte and Andrea stood there for a while, neither of them saying anything. It was nice that Andrea seemed concerned enough to check on how Charlotte was doing, but the way _Charlotte_ saw it, Andrea's concern was completely unnecessary. If something were to happen, she knew to tell the others as quickly as possible. Charlotte didn't like to see herself as being stupid — she wasn't stupid enough to face a rotter or a living threat unarmed. That only brought more trouble.

"You should probably come back inside," Andrea suggested, breaking the silence. "If anyone else sees you out here, they'll get worried."

With a slight shrug, Charlotte looked at Andrea with a half-smile on her face. "I guess I should feel honored then," she said. "I'll be back in in a minute, OK? If you wanna go on in, you can." Tugging Beth's blanket a little further on her shoulders, Charlotte leaned against the RV and hoped Andrea would go back inside. As much as Charlotte would've enjoyed her company on any other occasion, that very moment just wasn't the right time.

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

Even though it probably wasn't long since the end of the world happened, it felt like a lifetime ago since Charlotte was able to appreciate the old world. And despite Charlotte's rule on nostalgia, it just couldn't be helped some days. It could be a real nasty habit. So, while Charlotte leaned against Dale's RV that night, Beth's blanket wrapped around her shoulders, Charlotte couldn't help but think about the old world. Sure, there were certain things she missed, but the feeling dimmed with each passing day.

Electronics — cell phones, TVs, anything like that — would've proved useless in _anyone's_ current situation. But it was still something everyone had enjoyed once upon a time.

Even hot water, something a majority of people never worried about, had been something Charlotte missed _dearly_. It may have seemed a little ridiculous, but it was true. Charlotte missed hot water the most. Having experienced life on the road — even for a little bit — and having no way to stay clean hung heavily on Charlotte's shoulders. She didn't have any mirrors with her on her travels, so she didn't have any way of looking at herself, but Charlotte had an idea on how she looked. She'd been covered in all kinds of dirt, grime, and rotter blood. Bathing in rivers or creeks would've been a good idea, but with the possibility of creepy — potentially psychotic — groups or individuals were a threat. Charlotte was a young woman who had been currently traveling alone. After the whole Freddie incident, even before then, after she left her first group, Charlotte knew that bathing openly was a risk.

Rolling her eyes, Charlotte felt a bubble of irritation in the pit of her stomach. _Everything_ was dangerous.

Sighing, Charlotte rubbed her face in exasperation.

Looking over to where Andrea had stood, Charlotte frowned. She probably _should_ go back inside, before anyone else sees her.

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

By the time the next morning rolled around, Charlotte was awoken early by Carol. The older woman had a solemn smile on her face, but it was clear she was trying to keep an upbeat attitude. With no visible sign on where Sophia could have possibly gone, Charlotte had to wonder just how much of a toll it was having on Carol — physically and mentally. Since Charlotte herself never had kids of her own, she couldn't say she held the same emotions Carol did. Yeah, Charlotte was worried for Sophia's safety, but it wasn't the same when it came from a mother.

"I'm gonna do some laundry," she murmured, trying to keep her voice light and friendly. "Rick's going to put together a search party soon, too."

"Do you need any help with laundry?" Charlotte asked.

"Just pinning it up," she said. "I got it all washed and cleaned earlier, before anyone woke up."

"I'll help with that." Charlotte knew that, since Rick had accepted her into the group, she'd have to make herself useful to some degree. Having everyone else do the dirty work while she sat back and did nothing wouldn't sit well in her stomach.

After everyone had left Dale's RV, Charlotte followed Carol to where a basket of damp clothes resided. There was already a clothesline set up between some trees, with some pins to keep the clothes in place.

Charlotte started picking out the clothes and clipping them onto the clothesline, silently thanking the slight morning breeze. "It's good there's a breeze this morning," she said, looking at Carol. "Should dry these clothes off a little faster."

Carol nodded wordlessly as she hung up a shirt.

"Is there anything else I can help with?" Charlotte asked, pinning up a pair of boxers on the line.

"Well...I was thinking of cooking some food for Hershel's family." Carol sounded almost unsure on that, but there was a hint of familiarity in her voice. "I'd cook all the time for my husband and Sophia. I think it'd be a good way to thank Hershel and his family for everything they've done."

"That's a good idea." Charlotte nodded and smiled. "I've got some recipes my mother used to teach me. She came from this big Armenian family, and they had all these huge dishes."

"You think they'd like that?" Carol asked, looking at Charlotte with slight hopefulness.

"If they have all the ingredients, I don't see why they wouldn't." Charlotte tried for a smile. "But that's just my own personal opinion."

"Well, I wouldn't mind you teaching me."

"I'll be sure to do just that."

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **I know it took a while for this chapter to be put up, but hopefully you guys were patient enough to wait for it to be uploaded. And I mean patient. I understand the need to remind me that I uploaded the same chapter twice, but as a reminder, I don't need to be told constantly that I've uploaded the same chapter. I know I did. It's not a big deal, the newer chapter will be up soon. Patience is a virtue.**

 **Anywho, TWD isn't mine. It never will be.**

 **On a lighter note, TWD comes back in...I think twelve days, so a little less than two weeks. I've heard rumors that the producers and whatnot are planning on toning down on the amount of violence the show has, which seems really stupid. Like I said, it's a rumor. An old one, at that. But for those of you who may have something to say to that, don't hesitate to leave a review.**

 **Leave a thought on anything I can improve on.**

 **Sincerely,**

 **Alek Haydn**


	31. Chapter 31

_"Evil and darkness have fallen this night. But now, to survive, you must gain new sight."_ -Madame Leota; **The Haunted Mansion**

* * *

A slightly comfortable silence fell between Charlotte and Carol. They continued pinning up the clothes until Carol's attention was directed somewhere else. Charlotte followed the older woman's gaze until she saw Lori walking over.

"I can't believe I slept in," Lori sighed, looking anything but pleased with herself.

"You must have needed it," Carol responded, her voice sounding light and slightly cheerful. "You feeling alright?"

Lori started digging through a laundry basket, the unpleasant look still on her face. "Next time, wake me, all right?" she muttered. "Especially on laundry day."

"I can manage," Carol said. "Charlotte was nice enough to lend a hand."

"We got it covered," Charlotte put in, throwing a slight smile Lori's way.

Shaking her head, Lori let out a sigh, pinning up some of the clothes she took from the basket.

"Charlotte and I had an idea we wanted to run by you," Carol said, looking at the dark-haired woman cautiously.

"What's that?"

"That big kitchen of theirs got us thinking." Carol paused for a second before speaking again, looking between Charlotte and Lori with slight apprehension. "I wouldn't mind cooking in a real kitchen again. I'd guess Charlotte wouldn't mind either?" When Carol looked at Charlotte, she nodded and smiled. "Maybe," she went on, "we all pitch in and cook for Hershel and his family tonight."

"At least to say thank you for everything they've done," Charlotte added. "They've been really generous with everything that's been going on."

Lori looked between Charlotte and Carol, her expression neutral. It wasn't asking for much, she knew that. But when her gaze lingered on Carol, Lori knew it had more to do than just a simple thank you.

"Kind of looking for things to keep my mind occupied," Carol sighed, sounding almost sheepish.

"Like Charlotte said," Lori said, "after everything they've done for us, seems like the least we can do."

"You mind extending the invitation?" Carol said sheepishly. "Would just feel more right coming from you."

"How so?"

"You're Rick's wife." Carol shrugged. "It sort of makes you our unofficial first lady."

That made Lori pause, looking Carol's way almost in disbelief. Charlotte had to admit, even though she hadn't been with Rick's group that long, there had to be some kind of truth behind Carol's words. It was obvious Rick was in control, trying to keep things as calm and orderly as possible. With Lori _being_ Rick's wife, it only seemed like it was natural she had some position of power over the rest of the group.

In that moment, Rick walked by, greeting everyone before calling anyone who wanted to help look for Sophia.

"You guys OK taking it from here?" Charlotte asked, looking between the two women carefully.

A slight smile came across Carol's face at that. Given that Hershel's property — and the land surrounding the property — was big, there was a _lot_ of ground to cover. Charlotte wanted to make herself useful, and since she wasn't as weak as she'd been after giving Carl blood, she was going to help with the search for Sophia.

"We got it from here," Lori said, giving a firm smile.

Nodding, Charlotte walked over to where the others were starting to gather, by the hood of one of Hershel's trucks. Rick was laying out a map, holding it down with some average sized rocks. There were some areas marked off, which gave Charlotte the idea those were spots that needed to be searched. When Charlotte made it to the gathering, she stood near Andrea, looking down at the map with quiet curiosity.

"All right," Rick exclaimed, "everyone's getting new search grids today." Pointing to one area of the map, Rick went on explaining. "If she made it as far as the farmhouse Daryl found, she might have gone further East than we've been so far."

"I'd like to help." A young boy stepped forward. He was one of Hershel's people. "I know the area pretty well and stuff."

"Hershel's OK with this?" Rick asked.

The boy nodded. "Hershel said I should ask you."

"All right then," Rick said, "thanks."

"Nothing about what Daryl found screams Sophia to me," Shane said. "Anyone could have been holed up in that farmhouse."

" _Anyone_ could also mean Sophia," Charlotte put in, glancing warily at Shane, who was sitting comfortably in the passenger's side of Hershel's truck. "Right?"

Shane looked at her for a moment before letting out a sigh, not answering.

"Whoever slept in that cupboard was no bigger than yay-high," Daryl explained.

"It's something," Charlotte said.

"Maybe we'll pick up her trail again," Rick replied.

"No maybe about it," Daryl exclaimed, looking at the map a little closer. "I'm gonna need to borrow a horse, head up to this ridge right here, take a bird's-eye view of the whole grid."

"Should you really be going out there on your own?" Charlotte asked. "It could be dangerous."

"Daryl has a better understanding of the woods than any of us," Rick said. "I trust him to do this."

"If she's up there, I'll spot her." Daryl studied Charlotte carefully. The huntsman hadn't been given the opportunity to really see what Charlotte was like; with the mess of Carl getting shot and Sophia still missing, the group spent more time apart than was necessary. What _really_ caught the young Dixon's attention was the fact that Charlotte was _still_ with the group. Hadn't she mentioned leaving when the group first encountered her? Pushing the thought of his head, Daryl found himself getting a little frustrated for getting so easily distracted.

"That makes sense," Charlotte murmured, chewing her bottom lip thoughtfully.

"Maybe you'll see your chupacabra up there, too," T-Dog put in, sarcasm heavily lacing his words.

"Chupacabra?" Rick asked.

"You never heard this?" Dale asked, placing a duffel bag full of weaponry on the hood of the truck. "Our first night in camp, Daryl tells us that the whole thing reminds him of a time he went squirrel hunting, and he saw a chupacabra."

The boy tried, and failed, stifling a laugh.

"What are you braying at, jackass?" Daryl snapped, sounding almost defensive.

"You believe in a bloodsucking dog?" he asked.

"Do you believe in dead people walking around?" Daryl countered.

It was in that moment the boy reached for one of the rifles before being stopped by Rick. "You ever fire one before?" Rick asked.

"If I'm going out, I want one."

"And people in hell want slurpees," Daryl snapped, slinging his crossbow over his shoulder. He sauntered off without another word.

"Are you guys having any kind of shooting practice?" Charlotte asked, looking at Rick. "I'd think it'd be best to have that before trusting anyone with a gun they aren't sure about."

"We are," Shane said, standing up. "Tomorrow. Why don't you both come train? If y'all are serious, I'm a certified instructor."

There was a slight pause before Andrea spoke up. "For now, he'll come with us," she said.

"He's yours to babysit then," Shane called.

After the discussion dwindled down, Rick started breaking everyone into groups, handing out guns to the ones he trusted to handle them.

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **This chapter may have been a tad boring, but I have been running low on creativity lately. So, if any of you have suggestions you'd like to see in the story, don't hesitate to review or PM me, OK?**

 **TWD isn't mine.**

 **It's kind of exciting that TWD's coming back this Sunday! Rick and company are going to meet Ezekiel, and hopefully there'll be some kind of progress on their campaign against Negan. Also, I don't know if it's true or not, but I've heard that someone — possibly someone in Rick's group** **— will betray everyone. Like I mentioned, I don't know if it's true or not, so don't go jumping to any kind of conclusion on the matter. We'll find out if it's true once the show returns.**

 **Anywho, that's all I've got.**

 **Leave a thought on anything I can improve on.**

 **Sincerely,**

 **Alek Haydn**


	32. Chapter 32

_"It is important to draw wisdom from different places. If you take it from only one place it becomes rigid and stale."_ -Iroh; **Avatar the Last Airbender**

* * *

Rick had Andrea and T-Dog go together and check one section of the woods, giving them a hammer, nails, and a colored cloth to put up so when he, Shane, and Charlotte went to inspect _another_ part, they'd know when their paths intersected.

"Where'd you come from before all this?" Rick asked, looking at Charlotte while Shane hammered his group's cloth onto a tree.

"Tennessee," Charlotte answered. "I was living with my boyfriend at the time."

"What part of Tennessee?" Rick went on. Charlotte didn't hold it against him for being curious, the group knew little to none about Charlotte's background, so she saw it as understandable that there'd be questions.

"I lived in Knoxville." Charlotte looked at Rick, the two following behind Shane once he finished pinning the cloth. "I'm from Virginia originally, I only moved to Knoxville because of school and my boyfriend."

"He didn't make it?" Shane asked. There was no malice behind his words, but it still threw Charlotte off that he'd be asking questions, too. From what Charlotte gathered — or she probably imagined it — Shane didn't seem all that interested in her. It wasn't like she minded, there was something about Shane that just threw her off, made her uncomfortable.

"I killed him." Shrugging nonchalantly, Charlotte wrapped her arms around herself. "He lost who he used to be. All this changed him." Letting out a sigh, Charlotte chewed on her bottom lip for a moment. "But you've gotta change if you wanna survive," she mumbled. "That's how it works."

"You're right," Shane said, nodding at Charlotte's words. "Can't be the good guy and expect to live."

Charlotte saw a look sweep across Rick's face. "People may change, but being good isn't a bad thing," he said. "Helping people, doing the right thing — that should always be an option."

"I respect you, Rick," Charlotte put in, "I really do, but that kind of thinking gets manipulated by others. The real evil people will use you to live, even if it costs you your life. Yeah, there's a time to be good, but you've gotta keep in mind whether or not that time will get you killed."

That same look stayed on Rick's face, but it was obvious that he was thinking it over. Sometimes Charlotte forgot that, in many ways, Rick seemed very inexperienced to how the new world worked. There was a part of him that seemed to understand that things weren't exactly going to change — that is, the dead weren't going to stay dead — and that was a relief, but his trusting nature and somewhat naïve understanding on how things worked could get someone killed in the near future. Charlotte didn't want to think like that, she wanted to hold onto hope that one day, hopefully soon, Rick would come to realize the importance of the new world order. She really hoped.

"You think your family's still in Virginia?" Rick asked, after a heavy moment's silence.

"I'd like to hope so," Charlotte responded. "Sometimes I think about whether or not they made it. But I can't let that distract me from what's going on."

"What do you mean?" There was a hint of confusion, maybe even disbelief, in Rick's words.

"When I managed to get out of Knoxville, after things got really bad, I was nowhere close to going to Virginia. Nor did I _want to_." A heaviness fell on Charlotte's chest. "There were rioters, the military was leaving, rotters were starting to show up. I couldn't go back to my family, not in those conditions. Eventually, I just kept travelling until I ended up here." Shrugging, Charlotte tried to make herself look not as bothered by the thought of her family. "One day, maybe I'll go back, but I can't. Not now."

"I'm sorry," Rick sighed, sounding genuinely sincere. "It must be hard."

"Sometimes it is," she said. "But I try not to ponder on it too long. I have to keep myself focused on what's going on now."

The trio stopped for a moment while Shane pinned another cloth onto a tree. Rick and Charlotte stood watch for walkers, and were thankful when none appeared. Shane was being as careful as possible with the hammering, which they all knew would draw walkers if used improperly.

Once Shane had finished, they started walking again, falling into a semi-comfortable silence. They listened for any unusual noises, tried looking for any unusual shapes in the bushes and trees. The only noises they could hear were the bugs and birds, the only thing they saw were the trees and bushes. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Hell, it looked so normal it almost made them _believe_ it was normal. Occasionally, Rick would turn and look at Shane, as if thinking intently on something. Then he spoke.

"You remember the name of that waitress at the Dairy Queen when we were in high school?" The question was directed at Shane, and while there was a slightly mischievous glint in Rick's eyes, there was a slightly smug look on Shane's. "I know you, Shane, well enough to know that there is only one sure-fire way of engaging you in a conversation, and that is to start asking you about all the girls you did in high school."

 _So he was a player,_ Charlotte thought, though she shouldn't have been surprised. Shane had the physical attractiveness that most women would lust after, and he seemed to hold that in high regard.

"I don't want to," Rick went on, "but I'm willing to do it if that's what it takes."

With a slight scoff, a smirk spread across Shane's face. "Maryanne," he replied. "I told you about her?"

"In excruciating detail."

"Excruciating, my ass," Shane exclaimed. "You used to live for the details back in the day. You hear that, Charlotte?" Shane looked back at her. "Rick here used to _love_ my stories."

Charlotte merely snorted in response.

"I was impressionable," Rick countered. "And I may have been living vicariously through you."

"Why wouldn't you?" Shane exclaimed, sounding almost prideful. "With my impressive list of accomplishments. I was an artist in his prime. A protégé."

"You mean prodigy," Charlotte said.

Shane simply shrugged. "Is 'prodigy' what you call a young high school stud that bangs thirty-year-olds on the regular?" he asked.

Charlotte arched a brow at that. "Thirty-year-olds?"

"What thirty-year-old were you banging in high school?" Rick exclaimed.

"The PE teacher."

"Mr. Daniels?"

"Mrs. Kelly," Shane corrected.

" _'Mrs.'_ , huh?" Charlotte exclaimed.

"The girls volleyball coach?" Rick laughed. "Wasn't she married? You know what I just remembered? Why I never asked you about this stuff."

"Why don't we talk about your high school love life, huh?" Shane called. "I'm sure Charlotte here will love to know the details."

"I'm good," she laughed. "No offense."

Rick chuckled at that. "Well, that's a short conversation," he responded. "It may already be over."

"That right?" Shane teased. "There was Holly, right? Nope, that was me, too. Then there's Sheila. That's the one you lied to me about."

"I never lied about Sheila," Rick exclaimed, "I just got mixed up on what the bases meant."

"Just so you know, a home run, that usually means a sexual act," Shane laughed. "That's intercourse."

"Yeah," Rick chuckled, "I realize that now."

"What about you, Charlotte?" Shane asked. "What was your love life?"

"Shane...," Rick started.

"No, it's fine," Charlotte exclaimed. "And since you're so curious about it, I was kinda a slut in high school."

" _Kinda_?" Shane exclaimed.

"I had a number of boyfriends and flings under my belt," she explained. "I calmed down by the time I was a senior." Charlotte chuckled. "All the girls hated me. I had a bit of a reputation of stealing boyfriends."

"We're gonna have to keep a close eye on you and Rick then," Shane exclaimed.

Giving a soft chuckle, Charlotte shook her head. "Nah, I'm not like that anymore," she said, sounding almost solemn. "Well, I'd never steal a married man to begin with. I had my limits."

Some silence fell between the three of them. The light atmosphere that seemed to have settled between all of them started becoming heavier and heavier, and the realization that they were talking about the old world became obvious. Charlotte had broken — albeit she'd done it before — one of her rules; the nostalgia rule. She didn't want to think about the old world any longer than she had to. And from the looks on Rick's and Shane's faces, having been reminded of something that felt like a lifetime ago must have felt hard.

"Shouldn't be talking about this stuff," Shane sighed, any humor gone from his voice. "That life, it's gone and everyone in it. Sheila. Maryanne, Mrs. Kelly. It's like we're old folk. All the people in our stories are dead."

"We can't just forget them," Rick said, his voice almost unusually soft.

"The hell we can't," Shane retorted. "It's hard enough accepting what's happened without digging up the past. I'll tell you what it is..."

"Nostalgia," Charlotte finished. "Keeps you distracted from what's going on. Might get you killed, too."

"It's like a drug," Shane said, nodding in agreement. "Keeps you from seeing things the way they are. That's a danger, got people depending on you."

"You think I don't know that?" Rick said firmly.

"I don't know," Shane said. "What are we doing? You got every able body at your disposal out scourging these woods for a little girl we both know is likely dead."

"You think we should abandon search?" Rick snapped.

"It's not my call, is it?"

"I'm asking," Rick exclaimed.

"Survival, Rick," Shane said. "It means making the hard decisions. But you've got this knack. You spread us thinner and thinner. I'm trying to save lives here, and you're out saving cats from trees!"

"Is that what you think Sophia is?" Rick exclaimed. "A cat in a tree?"

"Don't do that, man," Shane said, "don't twist my words."

"Then what did you mean?" Charlotte asked.

"How many times you think Rick and I get called up to go looking for a missing child?" Shane exclaimed. "You got seventy-two hours. After that, you're looking for a body. And that was before. You guys honestly think we're gonna find Sophia _alive_?"

"I know the possibility of finding her alive goes down every second she's gone," Charlotte said, "but at least having _some_ hope that she's still alive is enough. At least until we know for sure."

"Are you that sure we won't?" Rick asked, looking at Shane.

"We being completely honest?" Shane asked.

"I'm counting on you to be."

"It's math, man," Shane sighed. "Love or not, Sophia, she only matters to the degree in which she don't drag the rest of us down. I thought you wanted honest." With an irritated sound, Shane turned and glared at Rick. "If we'd just moved on, man, we'd be halfway to Fort Benning," he snapped. "Right now, Carl wouldn't have gotten shot! You said so yourself. But we're risking lives here, we're risking our lives. Your own son almost died! Otis, he paid that bill. What the hell are we still doing this for?"

"I had her in my hand, Shane," Rick snapped. "She looked in my eyes and trusted me. I failed her. If I hadn't, she wouldn't be out here. _I_ think she's still alive, and I'm not...I'm not gonna write her off."

With a scoff, Shane turned and pursed his lips. "It's blue," he said, nodding to one of the trees. They'd crossed into Andrea's and T-Dog's area. "It's Andrea and T-Dog. Looks like we wandered into their grid."

Shane walked off without another word.

When Rick and Charlotte looked at each other, not saying anything, they followed behind him.

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **Hopefully this chapter wasn't too similar to the episode. If you felt like it was, I apologize. Other than that, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Not to mention that it's a long chapter, so that should be enjoyable, right?**

 **Do I own TWD? No. No I don't.**

 **What did you guys think of yesterday's 7b premier? I thought it was OK. I'm sure it'll start picking up with action and whatnot as the remainder of the series goes on. But what do you guys think of what Father Gabriel did? I'm pretty sure that in the comics, he does something similar (takes a bunch of essentials and leaves), but I feel like in the show, he's probably gonna do something either really useful or mess something up entirely.**

 **I digress.**

 **Leave a thought on what I should improve on.**

 **Sincerely,**

 **Alek Haydn**


	33. Chapter 33

_"I had no idea there were so many ways you could burn yourself out."_ -Chris Evans

* * *

Rick, Charlotte, and Shane continued their search in silence, which seemed to settle heavily around them. In all honesty, Charlotte used that silence to look at the perspectives of Rick _and_ Shane — Rick's devotion to finding Sophia alive was because of his failure to bring her back in the first place; Shane was trying to show that, even if the world _hadn't_ turned to shit, looking at every available option didn't exactly hurt, even if no one liked it. Charlotte liked to believe she sat somewhere in the middle, but she knew that she occasionally leaned over to either side, but not always.

"We should start heading back," Rick said, breaking the silence. "Andrea and the others should be back at camp by now."

Shane glanced at Rick for a moment before nodding. It was a curt nod, which meant he was probably still a bit upset over the earlier dispute.

Without another word, they headed back to camp.

 **-0-0-0-0-**

Once they made their way back to Hershel's driveway, Shane motioned for Rick and Charlotte to hand over any weapons they had — guns or otherwise — before they went in their own direction. Charlotte decided she'd check in on Carl, or at least see if Hershel needed a hand with anything. Since Carl's operation, she hadn't been really checking in on the young boy as often as she would've liked, but Charlotte had to know one way or another that Carl was healing properly.

Making her way to the front porch of the house, Charlotte knocked on the front door and waited patiently. The front door opened to show Beth on the other side. The young blonde looked at Charlotte carefully, a polite expression on her face.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"I was, uh, wondering if Hershel was in checking on Carl," Charlotte said.

"He did about five minutes ago," Beth responded. "His condition's good."

Nodding, Charlotte tried for a smile. "Well, uhm. . . .would you be able to tell him that I don't mind helping out with Carl, should he need any assistance?" Beth nodded. "Thank you."

Turning, Charlotte made her way off the front porch. Walking over to the camp, Charlotte sat down near where a makeshift fire-pit was; at the moment, no one was around, which gave Charlotte a moment to just sit and think. Everyone had gone off to do their own thing, which was probably good to keep everyone occupied for the time being. From what Charlotte could gather, Daryl hadn't returned from his search; and as far as she was concerned, T-Dog and Andrea hadn't returned yet, either.

"Hey." Glenn's voice startled Charlotte out of her thoughts. When she turned and saw Glenn walking toward her, a semi-genuine smile spread across Charlotte's face.

"Hey, what's up?" she asked.

"N-Nothing really," he stuttered, looking almost pale and anxious. "I just needed some time to think for a little bit."

"One of those days?"

Glenn nodded, carefully sitting himself down next to her. In that moment, Charlotte could see Glenn look almost older than he actually was. The expression on his face was very somber, almost conflicted. It made Charlotte wonder just what kind of drama the group was brewing on the side. Then again, any added drama would only make things _worse_ , which was something the group didn't need.

 _Adding drama with more drama is a recipe for disaster,_ a small voice in the back of her head whispered. _It drives people apart, makes them wary of each other. With everything that's going on now, why would anyone want to add anything else?_

A rational thought, but in a sense, kind of broad. Charlotte didn't want to think what kind of catastrophic outcome would occur from anymore drama that may be thrown their way.

"Ya know," Charlotte tried, hoping she'd at least be a little helpful, "if you ever need to _talk_ , I'm here. Only if you want to, though."

Looking at her for a moment, Glenn nodded. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he struggled with the words. "Lori's pregnant," he whispered, looking at Charlotte desperately.

Once the words completely processed in Charlotte's mind, she felt her heart leap in her throat and her eyes unconsciously widen. In all honesty, if she'd been drinking anything, Charlotte was _certain_ she would've spat it out. Not only that, but she couldn't have thought of a more _terrible_ time for a pregnancy to occur. She understood that pregnancy could happen either at a time that worked for the couple, and other times it happened at the most unpredictable — in some cases a very _dangerous_ — time. Living in a walker infested world happened to be the unpredictably dangerous kind.

"Are you sure?" she murmured, looking at him carefully.

"I got her a test," Glenn hissed. "She said she's pregnant. She hasn't told Rick yet."

For a moment, Charlotte almost regretted telling Glenn she'd have no problem listening to his internal struggles, but she had to wonder just how long that information had been simmering inside him. How long had Lori known she was pregnant? Obviously she wasn't that far along, from what Charlotte understood, since the older woman wasn't even showing yet. But the moment Lori deems it necessary to announce her pregnancy, how would the group react? How would _Carol_ react?

"Well this will be difficult." Charlotte felt a hint of a grimace come across her face.

"You're telling me." Glenn buried his face in his hands. "You can't tell anyone," he sighed. "Promise?"

It felt almost childish, keeping secrets from everyone as if they were in elementary school, but it was also an immensely personal situation. However Lori planned to pursue her pregnancy — should she choose to carry the baby to term or, should a pharmacy still carry any, terminate the pregnancy with a type of abortion pill — would be her decision entirely.

Letting out a sigh of her own, Charlotte nodded. "I won't tell anyone," she responded.

Nodding, Glenn stood up and, with what looked like a half-assed attempt at a reassuring smile, left without another word.

 **-0-0-0-0-**

It took a few minutes after Glenn left for Charlotte to gather herself enough to try and figure out a way to keep herself occupied. With the group off doing different things, and, for the most part, the search for Sophia being done for the day, that left Charlotte with nothing to do. T-Dog and Andrea had come back not long after Glenn and Charlotte had their discussion, with Andrea perching herself up on Dale's RV with a rifle and binoculars, and T-Dog going to rest for a little bit. Charlotte would've gone to check on his wound, but it looked as if he were tired and she was going to let him rest.

"Dale, where's Lori and Carol at?" Charlotte called, once the older man was in her eyesight.

"They're inside, making dinner for tonight." Dale nodded to Hershel's house.

"I'm gonna go help."

"I don't think that'll be necessary," he responded. "From the looks of it, Lori got some help from Maggie and the rest of Hershel's people, not to mention Carol doing some of the cooking."

 _Sounds like they are set when it comes to help._

"OK, that's good. Is there anything I can help with?"

Dale shook his head. "We're pretty much caught up for the night," he said. "It should be relatively easy."

There wasn't even a moment to allow what Dale said to sink in before Andrea called out "Walker!"

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **1\. I understand this chapter took a bit to put up, but here it is! Hopefully you guys liked it.**

 **2\. Hopefully it didn't follow the show too closely; let me know if it does.**

 **I don't own TWD. The creators of the comics and show own it.**

 **After last Sunday's episode with Rick and company meeting a new group, do you guys think they'll help with taking down Negan? Gregory and Ezekiel don't seem to agree wih Rick's way of thinking** **— though I wouldn't have put a lot on Gregory wanting to help to begin with** **— but it should be interesting seeing where this new group stands.**

 **Also, there's been some rumors going around that Sasha will be killed off. I guess the actress who plays Sasha is going to be playing in a new _STAR TREK_ series and her future with TWD depends on how her schedule will look. I don't know.**

 **Let me know if something's confusing, I'll clear it up the best I can.**

 **Sincerely,**

 **Alek Haydn**


	34. Chapter 34

_"And sing slow it down,_

 _Through chaos as it swirls,_

 _It's us against the world...,"_

-Us Against the World; **by Coldplay**

* * *

The _second_ that word came out of Andrea's mouth, everyone dropped what they were doing to look out to the field by Hershel's house. Shuffling through the underbrush of the field was a figure. It was difficult for the details to be made out, but it was coming in the direction of Hershel's property and it looked like a visible threat.

"Just the one?" Rick called out, hurrying over to look at it.

Andrea grabbed her binoculars to look at it before quickly grabbing her rifle, tossing the binoculars to the side. "I bet I can nail it from here," she exclaimed.

"No, no, Andrea!" Rick exclaimed. "Put the gun down!"

"You'd best let us handle this!" Shane shouted. All the men — minus Dale — grabbed any available weapons and practically _ran_ in the direction of the figure.

"Shane, hold up!" Rick snapped, pointing to his companion. "Hershel wants to deal with walkers."

"What for, man? We got it covered."

Charlotte had herself straining to really see any details of the figure, and she felt almost helpless as she watched the others run out to go do something. Rick had quickly gone into Dale's RV, and when he came out, looking very frustrated, he had a pistol in hand.

"Stay here in case someone gets injured," Rick exclaimed.

"Wouldn't it be easier if I went with you guys?" Charlotte exclaimed.

"We've got enough people going out there." He gave her a sharp look. " _Stay here_."

Rick sprinted as fast as he could after the others, the look of frustration not leaving his face for a second.

Charlotte, Dale, and Andrea watched as the men ran off, tense and worried. Even though Rick's decision on having Charlotte stay behind had good intentions, but the possibility of someone getting hurt — though highly unlikely with the amount of people and the weapons they had — would still be enough of a reason to have her go with them. But the more Charlotte thought about it, the more she kind of understood that it probably wouldn't have worked out that way. If Charlotte didn't have the time to get the proper medical equipment ready for any potential dangers, chances were that whoever sustained the injuries would die. But it also depended on how severe the injury was.

Biting her lip, Charlotte got herself ready to get her medical equipment.

Then she heard the click of a gun.

Charlotte saw Andrea raise her rifle, undoubtedly aiming it at the figure coming towards them.

"That's not a good idea, Andrea," Charlotte said. "Rick said not to shoot."

"I can hit it!" she said, sounding almost _excited_.

Charlotte turned and saw that Rick and the others weren't even a quarter of the way to where the figure was, and that made her stomach churn anxiously. Things weren't turning out as well as they should have been.

"Andrea, don't," Dale exclaimed.

"Back off, Dale," she muttered.

"Listen to him," Charlotte said sharply. "Rick and the others have this, don't make it harder for them."

"I don't need to be lectured." Positioning herself into a more comfortable and accurate position, Andrea aimed her rifle with a smirk on her face. "I've got this."

Then she pulled the trigger.

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

Hershel and anyone else who had been gathered in the house came running out. Rick had shouted his disapproval, and from the sound of his voice, it became clear that whoever Andrea shot — she hit the figure in the head — was _not_ a walker.

"What on Earth's going on out there?" Hershel shouted.

After taking a second to really process everything, Andrea, Dale, and Charlotte dropped whatever they were holding, threw away whatever plans they were formulating, and ran out to the field to see what had cause Rick to shout their way. Once they made their way over to where the others were gathering, Andrea immediately threw her hands over her mouth while Dale and Charlotte gasped. The figure had been Daryl. He was covered in blood — whether it was his or not they didn't know — and all kinds of filth. From the looks of it, he had been dragging a walker behind him, with a string of ears around his neck. Blood dribbled from a gash on his temple; it didn't look _too_ deep, but would probably need stitches nonetheless.

Rick and Shane pulled Daryl from the ground, putting an arm around their shoulders while they attempted to drag the barely conscious Dixon back to Hershel's farm.

"I can stitch the wound on his head," Charlotte exclaimed, trying to get a better look at it. "I'd have to check to see if he's hurt anywhere else, he's covered in too much blood."

"Good," Rick exclaimed, his voice tight. "We've got to get him back to the farm quickly."

"But look at him!" Glenn exclaimed. "What the hell happened?! He's wearing ears!"

Rick glanced at the ears strung around Daryl's neck before glancing to where Hershel and the others were gathering, watching the ordeal from a distance. "Let's keep that to ourselves," he grumbled, ripping the _necklace_ off. While the others started to hurry back to the farm, they were stopped by T-Dog.

"Guys, isn't this Sophia's?" he asked. In T-Dog's hand was a filthy, raggedy doll. And, just for one moment, there seemed to be the faintest glimmer of hope.

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

Needless to say, the reaction from everyone else regarding Daryl's condition was anything but pleasant. There were horrified screams from Lori and the others with Hershel paling in comparison. Rick gave a quick explanation of the situation, which Hershel seemed to take with a grain of salt.

"I've got a spare bedroom he can go in," Hershel exclaimed, sounding almost frustrated. "I'll handle the injuries..."

"Don't worry about it," Charlotte exclaimed. "I'll take care of him."

A hard expression came across Hershel's face. "I don't doubt you can handle it," he responded. "But I would feel more comfortable if I performed it."

"Hershel, it's OK," Charlotte said firmly. "I can do it. I helped take care of T-Dog when he got hurt, I can take care of this."

Without further argument, they were all hurriedly led back to the house; where Maggie showed them to an unoccupied guest room. As it would turn out, the spare bedroom Hershel mentioned would be on the second floor of his home. That meant Shane and Rick would have to haul Daryl, who was still barely conscious, up a flight of stairs to an available room. It took careful planning and making sure Daryl's body wasn't jostled around too much to ensure that the young Dixon got to the room safely. When in the room and carefully placed on the bed, Charlotte knelt down and carefully inspected the gash on his head.

"I need bandages, disinfectant, a needle, and thread," Charlotte exclaimed. Patricia dashed out of the room to get the items. "I have to get him cleaned up a little. I need to make sure he's not bleeding anywhere else."

Lori had hurried off to get some water and a towel, and by that time, Patricia had returned with the items Charlotte would need to close the wound.

"You think you'll be able to stitch it?" Rick said.

"Not with his hair in the way," Charlotte exclaimed. "I'll disinfect it and bandage it. Besides, the wound doesn't look as deep as I thought it'd be."

Nodding, Rick let out a sigh of relief.

"But that doesn't mean he's not hurt anywhere else." Charlotte looked up at Rick. "With all this blood, I can't tell what's his and what isn't."

In no time at all, Lori came back with a water bottle and a damp towel. With a thank you, Charlotte started cleaning off the blood around Daryl's mouth, announcing that there were no injuries around that area, before working on the blood on his head. Aside from the gunshot wound, he had some minor cuts and scrapes that weren't deep enough for stitches, but would need disinfecting either way.

"What about the blood on his shirt?" Lori asked.

"I'll have to get his shirt off so I can see what's going on there," Charlotte explained. "He may not be pleased about it, but he'll have to deal with it."

Around that time, Daryl started to regain consciousness, blinking rapidly as he looked around the room confusedly. "The hell...," he grumbled, attempting to move.

Rick held Daryl down, hoping to calm him.

"Whoa, hey," Charlotte exclaimed, putting a hand carefully on Daryl's forearm. "You're in Hershel's house. I'm trying to bandage your wound."

Still a little disoriented, Daryl looked over at Charlotte, a scowl on his face. "The hell is this!" he exclaimed. "I don't need..."

"Daryl, this is for your own good," Rick exclaimed, pushing the young Dixon down. "You need her help."

"I have to bandage your head wound or you'll get an infection." Charlotte kept her tone as neutral as possible. "And I take it that's not how you want to go down, is it?" The huntsman threw a heated glare Charlotte's way. "I'll also have to check to see if you're hurt anywhere else," she went on, ignoring the look thrown her way. "Which means you'll have to take your shirt off."

"Nah!" he snapped. "I ain't takin' my shirt off."

"That's _way_ too much blood for me to feel comfortable with," Charlotte snapped. "So either you'll let me help you or you can get an infection and die. Take your pick."

Daryl's glare didn't ease up, but he caught on to what Charlotte was trying to say. When he didn't move or fight back, Rick took his hand off.

Charlotte continued to clean around Daryl's head wound, wiping off the filth and blood so it'd be easier for her to bandage it up. Pouring some disinfectant onto the towel, she continued wiping, ignoring the slight flinch from the huntsman. Once she was comfortable with the progress she made there, she put some disinfectant on the bandage Patricia gave her and wrapped it around Daryl's head.

"Take off your shirt," she ordered, once the head wound had been attended to. With a grumble, Daryl carefully peeled his shirt off, his entire body tense, like he was ready to bolt at any given second. Charlotte wasn't entirely surprised when she saw small scars and cuts decorating Daryl's body — at least from what she could see — since Daryl seemed to be the one who got a majority of the food for the group. Minor injuries would probably be expected. But that didn't mean Charlotte had been completely oblivious to the fact that Daryl was more conscious on his back, arching it in a way that Charlotte wouldn't be able to see it. That struck her as odd, but chose not to voice it. As she did a quick inspection, Charlotte's eyes fell on what looked to be a puncture wound on his lower side, as if something had been jabbed through.

Pouring some more water on the towel, Charlotte started wiping the blood off. That seemed to be where most of the blood had been coming from.

"Is it bad?" Rick asked.

"No," Charlotte responded. By that point, everyone but Rick and Shane had piled out. " _This_ I can stitch and bandage. But because of the severity of it, I would suggest no more going out looking."

"Are you _crazy_?" Daryl snapped. "I ain't stopping now!"

"Tell me this, Daryl," Charlotte started, pouring a little more water onto the towel, "say you go back out there, hurt yourself again, reopen your stitches — or even hurt yourself somewhere else on your body — but this time, you can't make it back here? What would you do then?"

Daryl scoffed. "I'd make it back," he countered.

"How?" Charlotte looked at him stonily. "You got lucky this time. Say you get an injury more severe than just a few gashes. You get something that's causing you to lose blood fast and you're too weak to get back here. Now we've got a little girl _plus_ a grown man we've got to find. You nearly died. You're not going back out there."

"She's gotta point, Daryl," Rick stated. "We can't risk your safety, not like this. Get better, then you can help."

"This is bullshit!" the huntsman cried. "I should be looking for her! I shouldn't be in here!"

"We understand," Rick went on, "but we need you to be healthy."

"At least tell us where you found the doll," Shane said, his voice tense.

Once Charlotte had cleaned the wound and the area around it enough, she started working on stitching it.

"I found it washed up on the creek bed right there," he answered. "She must have dropped it crossing there somewhere."

"Cuts the grid almost in half," Rick said, looking at Shane.

"You're welcome," Daryl grumbled.

"How's he looking?" Rick asked.

"From the looks of it, fine," Charlotte said. "But I would be careful with those stitches. One wrong move and they'll pop."

"What about medication?" Rick went on.

"I don't think they've got a lot left," she sighed. "With Carl and now this, I would say we're on thin ice right now."

"She's right." Hershel walked in. "I had no idea we'd be going through antibiotics so quickly. Any idea what happened to my horse?" The question was directed more-so at the three men than Charlotte.

"Yeah, the one that almost killed me?" Daryl exclaimed. "If it's smart, it left the country."

"We call that one Nelly," Hershel responded, ignoring the sarcastic nature of Daryl's comment. "As in Nervous Nelly. I could have told you she'd throw you if you'd bothered to ask. It's a wonder you people managed to survive this long."

Without another word, Hershel walked out the door.

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **How'd you like the chapter? Daryl and Charlotte sort of interacted in this chapter. They weren't particularly friendly, given the situation they found themselves in. I don't plan on writing this story to be a Daryl-immediately-is-infatuated-with-the-story's-OC, so don't expect any romances to be happening immediately. I know there are a lot of Daryl/OC stories where he's just infatuated with the OC the second he meets them, whether it has to do with looks, personality, ability to kill walkers and/or hunt, and how the group perceives said OC, which is usually beautifully. In most stories, it's all of those traits wrapped up like a burrito.**

 **Also, I know that there are also stories of the OC Daryl is paired with getting a crossbow and going out hunting or training with Daryl. Charlotte's not getting a crossbow or any kind of weapon that involves a bow and arrow. I'd like to think that the whole crossbow thing is Daryl's thing.**

 **Other than that, I hope you guys enjoy the story.**

 **Do I own TWD? No. No I don't.**

 **As for the newest episode, Jadis and her group seem a little odd. Aside from the fact that they live in a dumpster-like environment and speak — I cannot for the life of me remember the name for this** **— almost unnaturally, I am not entirely certain on what to think of them yet. I'm happy they're willing to help Rick, even if it has a price, but I don't entirely know if they're going to be as helpful as Rick may hope. But that's probably me looking too deeply into it.**

 **Anywho, let me know if there's anything I should improve on.**

 **Thank you.  
**

 **Alek Haydn**


	35. Chapter 35

_"I hurt myself today,_

 _To see if I still feel,_

 _I focus on the pain,_

 _The only thing that's real...,"_

-Hurt; **by Johnny Cash**

* * *

There was a tense silence after that. Charlotte wordlessly made sure all of Daryl's injuries were properly bandaged and medicated before wiping her hands on her jeans.

"I'll have to check on these later," she told Daryl. "Try and get some rest. If you do too much moving you'll probably tear the stitches."

Daryl had replied with an unintelligible mumble, but he reluctantly pulled the covers over his exposed upper torso. Charlotte left after that, hoping to find a bathroom so she could wash her hands. As she left the bedroom, she jumped when she saw Lori leaning against the wall. For a split second, Charlotte's eyes unconsciously went to Lori's flat stomach. Since Glenn's admittance that Lori was pregnant, Charlotte's reaction to seeing the woman made her feel uncertain and a little uncomfortable.

"Will Daryl be OK?" Lori asked, snapping Charlotte out of her slight daze.

Nodding quickly, Charlotte tried for a smile. "He'll be fine as long as he's careful," she responded. "He's not allowed to go searching for Sophia until he's fully recovered."

"That's good."

With another nod, Charlotte crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm gonna go wash up," she said. "I'll see you around."

"See you."

With that, Charlotte left.

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

When Charlotte found the bathroom, she turned on the sink and washed her hands. There was some blood on her fingers, but it wasn't a _lot_. Once her hands had been cleaned, Charlotte dried them off before taking a moment to just look at herself in the mirror. She looked absolutely exhausted. There were noticeably dark circles around her eyes and everything she did seemed to be forced to an extent. It was almost like she couldn't quite find the energy to do anything. Shaking her head, Charlotte left the bathroom. She had other things to worry about than her exhaustion.

On her way downstairs, Charlotte ran into Dale. The older man looked very concerned, and it didn't take much for her to wonder why.

"He'll be fine," she said. "Just needed a few stitches."

Letting out a sigh of relief, Dale nodded. "How're you doing?" he asked.

"I'm fine." Charlotte met Dale at the bottom of the stairs, hoping she sounded convincing enough. "Hershel's not all that pleased with us going through his medical supplies."

"That makes sense," he sighed. "I don't know how we'd be able to make it up to him."

"Probably take a miracle, that's for sure."

Nodding, Dale put a comforting hand on Charlotte's shoulder. "Thank you for everything you've done," he said, sounding sincere.

"Don't thank me," she chuckled. "I'm just doing what I have to."

"Something that helped save two peoples' lives."

"Hershel took care of Carl."

A look came across Dale's face. "You've given us more than enough to be grateful for," he sighed. "You have my respects, Charlotte. You've done your fair share to earn your place in this group."

With a small smile, Charlotte nodded. "Thank you." Taking a deep breath, Charlotte nodded. "Is Carol still in the kitchen?" When Dale nodded, Charlotte nodded again. "I'll go see if she needs any help."

When the two went _their_ separate ways, Charlotte walked into the kitchen, seeing Carol doing what was probably some final touches on the dinner that had been made. From what she could see in the dining area, another table had been set up for the extra guests, smaller than the family sized table, but enough for the amount of people who'd be attending. Plates and cutlery had been set up, a table cloth had been set on the smaller table to make it look nicer, everything looked organized and nice.

"Carol?" The older woman jumped a little at the call of her name, but relaxed when she saw Charlotte. "Do you need any help?"

"Maybe with getting the food on the table," she replied, a small smile on her face.

With a single nod, Charlotte helped gather a bowl of steamed vegetables and bring it over to the table. Carol had taken the container the cooked meat had been in and placed it near the center, right next to the vegetables.

"How's Daryl doing?" Carol asked as the two women made their way back to the kitchen.

"He's fine," Charlotte responded. "He won't be going back out to look for Sophia. Not in his condition." A look swept across Carol's face. "I'm sorry..."

"Don't be," she responded. "He's injured, his health comes first." The older woman looked at Charlotte with a small smile. "Why don't you tell everyone it's time to eat? I've got it from here."

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

Finding everyone to tell them it was time to eat had been an adventure in itself. While most of Rick's people were either at the campsite or sitting on the porch, finding Hershel and his people had been a little difficult. Since Hershel's home and property was so big, it was hard trying to figure out where they could possibly be, but Charlotte managed to find them all and tell them.

By the time everyone had made it back inside to eat, the only people who hadn't made an appearance was — understandably — Daryl and Carl, but also Lori, which seemed a little odd.

"Do you know where Lori is?" Andrea asked.

"I don't know." Charlotte shrugged. "She might be checking in on Carl, I think."

"I'll get her," Carol sighed, before anyone had a chance to speak up.

While Carol went to get Lori, everyone silently — a silence that was as deafening as it was awkward and tense — sat themselves down and waited for the two women to return. Rick's people would send the occasional glance Hershel's way before looking down, fidget in their seat, or try to look at anything else. Hershel and his family were doing the same thing.

By the time Carol came back, by herself, there was a sense of relief, but the tensions seemed to rise a little since Lori hadn't come down either.

"She'll be down in a minute," Carol said, her voice sounding almost timid.

It took Lori about five minutes to come down and sit herself next to her husband. It didn't go unnoticed that Lori's eyes were bloodshot and a little puffy, showing she'd been crying. She tried her hardest to play it off, but there were still worried looks thrown her way. Once everyone had themselves settled in, they reluctantly started to serve themselves food. The clanking of the dishes, the murmured voices asking for certain dishes to be handed over, the occasional chewing of food and drinking of beverages that Hershel had gotten up to get were the only noises that filled the dining area. There was still a lingering awkward tension hanging back, and the more they lingered into silence once the meal had been served, the more prominent the tension became.

Occasionally, Charlotte would glance over at Hershel, who sat at the head of the table, and it looked like he'd barely touched his food. His gaze would go around the table, his face was indescribable. The meal was supposed to be a sign of gratitude from Rick's people to Hershel and his family, but from the look on Hershel's face, the meal probably was a burden than anything else. Looking down, Charlotte picked at her food, every now and again putting a small forkful in her mouth.

"Does anybody know how to play guitar?" Glenn asked. He'd sat himself at the smaller table with Maggie, Beth, and Jimmy. The others could tell that Glenn was trying to lighten the mood somehow, but it only seemed to add to the growing tension. "Dale found a cool one. Somebody's gotta know how to play."

"Otis did," Patricia said meekly.

"Yes," Hershel replied solemnly, "and he was very good too."

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

The meal had gone on in a very quiet manner. Glenn didn't try to lighten the mood after the guitar incident. Once everyone had finished, they gathered their dishes and brought into the kitchen. Charlotte helped Carol bring the leftovers into the kitchen.

"I'm going to put a plate together for Daryl," she said, "would you mind bringing it to him?"

"Sure," she responded. "I have to check on his bandages anyway."

Once the plate had been made, Charlotte took it and brought it up to the guest room Daryl was in. Knocking on the semi-opened door, she waited until she heard his voice.

"I got some food for you," she said. "I'm coming in."

Before Daryl even had a chance to say anything, she pushed the door open and walked in. Daryl covered himself up, throwing a look her way. He hadn't put his shirt back on after Charlotte stitched him up.

"The hell you still doing here for?" he muttered irritably.

"To give you food and check your bandages."

Throwing another look her way, Daryl snorted. "Thought you were leaving," he grumbled.

"I thought so, too," Charlotte responded, ignoring the tone in his voice. "But I decided to stay."

The huntsman gave another snort.

"How're you feeling?"

"As good as I look."

Nodding, Charlotte let out a sigh. "Carol and the others threw this together for everyone," she said. "You're probably starving."

Looking over at the plate, Daryl didn't say anything but there looked to be a hint of appreciation in his eyes.

"Am I able to check your injuries?"

He looked at her again before giving a short nod.

Kneeling down, Charlotte looked at the bandage on his head. It didn't look too bad, and she considered whether or not she should change it. "How's your head?" she asked.

He shrugged.

"I'm gonna need a better answer than that."

"Don't hurt," he grumbled.

"Are you sure?"

He nodded.

Looking at him closely, Charlotte nodded wordlessly. "You don't have to lie," she assured. "If you're in pain you can tell me."

When Daryl didn't answer, she let out a sigh. He was certainly going to be difficult.

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **I'm sorry this chapter took so long to put up. But if you've got anything to say on this chapter, don't hesitate to let me know, OK?**

 **Do I own TWD? No. No I don't.**

 **If you've got any ideas for future updates, don't hesitate to let me know.**

 **Let me know if there's anything I should improve on.**

 **Thank you.**

 **Alek Haydn**


	36. Chapter 36

_"I hear Jerusalem bells a-ringing,_

 _Roman cavalry choirs are singing,_

 _Be my mirror, my sword, and shield,_

 _My missionaries in a foreign field...,"_

-Viva la Vida; **by Coldplay**

* * *

Charlotte managed to change Daryl's bandages without him putting up much of a fuss. He was still difficult, but she worked her way through it with slight ease. Daryl seemed to want to put up the whole tough-guy façade, acting as if he didn't need any kind of medical attention. Charlotte had to constantly remind him about the possibilities of infection, how he could die if his wounds weren't properly medicated and the bandages changed regularly. She wanted the huntsman to know that his contribution to the group — despite her not being apart of it very long — was important and his physical health being more than subpar could help with that. And in that moment, with his injury from his crossbow and the graze from the bullet from Andrea was diminishing what he could and couldn't do.

"I'll have to check on it later," she said, after finishing. "Eat up, get some rest. I'll be back in a few hours."

Daryl grumbled something unintelligible under his breath, causing Charlotte to arch a brow at him.

"I will take that as a 'thank you'," she sighed. "See you soon."

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

The nighttime air was, as usual, bitter but refreshing. Being cooped up in Hershel's for what Charlotte considered a _lifetime_ made her a little restless, it made her enjoy being outside, even if she wasn't on the move, a little more. Charlotte's old instincts were still showing themselves every now and again, especially her one-day-only rule. Before finding Rick and his people, Charlotte didn't want to stay in one place anymore than she had to. One night sufficed, anything longer than that was dangerous. If scavengers were to raid the place she was staying in, or rotters were to overrun it, then Charlotte knew that she'd be done for. Thankfully, though, that never happened.

Leaning against Dale's RV to get some fresh air before heading to bed, Charlotte's little moment of silence — since anyone who wasn't on watch was already sleeping from what Charlotte could tell — was cut short when she heard a soft whistle a few feet to her left. It was Shane. In Charlotte's opinion, it was a little odd for him to _actually_ be communicating with her; sure, the instance where they were talking about the old days could count as "friendly banter", but Charlotte wouldn't really consider herself Shane's friend. Hell, they were barely even acquaintances.

"You should be sleeping," he said, his tone hushed but still loud enough to hear.

"I will in a little bit."

With a nod, Shane rubbed his head, his gaze wandering for a moment before glancing over at Charlotte. He still wasn't sure what to think of her. She had mentioned wanting to leave with some supplies in the beginning, but she hadn't. Rick had told him about Charlotte's decision to stay, and it was a bit of a conflict on Shane's part. That meant there was one more person to feed and protect, which meant the group would have to work harder. But Charlotte's medical experience made her important.

"You think we'll find Sophia out there?" he blurted. It was a bit of an unconscious thing to do, but it he felt it was important to ask. Shane knew Rick's thoughts on the whole Sophia ordeal, he knew that — obviously — Carol wanted to keep looking. It felt like the whole group was only looking to make Carol feel better. It didn't feel like people were even giving Carl the time of day anymore. Sure, the kid managed to pull through from his surgery, but wasn't Carl's improvement just as important as finding Sophia?

A sharp look was thrown Shane's way. "I think we'll find out soon enough," she muttered.

"That ain't answering the question."

"Well what do you want me to say?" Charlotte hissed. "I really believe there's a chance we'll find her, but there's also a chance we won't or, if we do, she could be..." Cutting herself off before she said something else, Charlotte ran a hand through her hair. "I know what your thoughts are on this, Shane," she grumbled. "You've made it perfectly clear. _I_ can't change the way you think, but I'd make sure you _really_ consider what you say around the others."

"You haven't even been with us that long," he scoffed, shaking his head. "How can you know what's good for us?"

"Finding that little girl will mean the world to Carol. It'll mean the world to Rick. You wouldn't want someone you care for going missing, being chased down by rotters and then disappearing."

"See, if it were up to me, I wouldn't have gotten them lost in the first place. None of this woulda happened if I had been in charge."

Charlotte's eyes narrowed slightly. "Given the chance you _might_ be in charge doesn't mean someone you care for can't go missing," she said slowly. "And it certainly doesn't mean Sophia wouldn't have gone missing in the first place."

Without another word, Charlotte went into the RV.

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

The next morning, everything was unusually quiet. Hershel and his people went about their usual business, Rick and his people went about theirs. Hershel had given Carl a clean enough bill of health for the young boy to be able to get up and go outside. From what Lori had said, Carl's wound had healed enough for him to walk and move around, but he had to be very careful with his movements. If he wasn't, there was a chance that whatever stitches remained would tear and reopen any unhealed tissues. Charlotte — at least in her own opinion — would've had Carl on bedrest a little while longer, but she knew better than to argue with Hershel's judgment. He had more medical experience than she did, so she trusted him to know what he was talking about.

In the little campsite not far from Hershel's house, the group was getting itself into its usual morning routine. Breakfast was getting ready to be cooked, any remaining laundry was being folded and handed back to the owners, and people were trying to find some time to wash themselves up. Little things to keep themselves occupied and distracted for however long they could keep it up.

Charlotte found herself helping T-Dog put up the RV's sun protector. After it had been put up, Glenn came by with a basket full of peaches. Glenn's face looked exceptionally pale, almost sickly pale. He hadn't uttered a single word the entire morning, only occasionally interacting with whoever wanted a peach, but he hardly uttered an intelligible sound. Or at least a coherent sentence. So when Glenn came by, stopping in front of T-Dog and Charlotte, plus Dale who had approached them, the sickly look on Glenn's face seemed to worsen.

"'Sup?" T-Dog yawned.

"Nothing," Glenn replied quickly. "Nothing's up. Why?"

Without another word, and after the trio had taken a peach, Glenn hurried off with the basket.

"He looked a little pale," Charlotte noted, taking a bit out of the fruit. "I think he's getting sick."

"Well something's up with him," Dale said. "I haven't seen him jumpy like this before."

Humming, Charlotte took another bite. "Maybe you could talk to him," she suggested, her words a little garbled from her full mouth. "He listens to you, I bet."

Dale nodded.

"Well, I got no idea what his problem is, but I have other things to do." T-Dog shook his head before walking off.

"I should probably check on Daryl," Charlotte sighed, swallowing the food in her mouth.

"He's in his tent." Dale looked at Charlotte. "Left the room Hershel put him in early this morning."

Rolling his eyes, Charlotte tossed the remainder of the peach aside in slight frustration, rubbing her hands on her jeans. "Which tent's his?" she asked. Once it had been pointed out to him, she walked over to it. Standing near the entrance, she crossed her arms over her chest. The opening was unzipped, but she knew better than to barge in. "Knock, knock," she announced. "Can I come in?"

There was a moment's silence before Daryl replied. "Yeah." It was grumbled and sounded almost irritated, but Charlotte took the opportunity to enter. The bandages on his head were gone, and his shirt was partially on, showing off at least half of his chest and partially his stomach. It didn't seem to bother Daryl all that much, the amount of skin he was showing, but Charlotte could only assume it was because he was wearing a shirt of some sort.

"Dale said you came here early this morning," Charlotte said. "I thought I told you to rest."

Shrugging, Daryl looked at the arrow he had in his hands, as if it fascinated him more than what Charlotte was trying to point out. "I'm fine," he muttered.

"Did Hershel check on you?" she pressed. "Before you came in here?"

He shook his head.

 _At least he's honest,_ she thought.

Kneeling down beside him, Charlotte arched a brow at him. "You're stubborn, I'll give you _that_ much," she murmured. "Since you took your bandages off for me, let me see your head."

Daryl looked at her for a moment before slightly turning his head. Charlotte resisted the urge to roll her eyes, given that she couldn't really tell how it was from that angle.

"If you want me to lean over you to see the injury, I'll do it. I can't see it from this angle."

That seemed to be enough to convince him to turn enough for her to see. Gently moving some of his hair out of the way, Charlotte saw the wound had scabbed over, some of the skin — from what she could see at least — was a little red and puffy, but given the short time span since Daryl obtained the injury, it seemed natural. Charlotte couldn't see any sign of infection, there wasn't any sign of discharge, but it still needed medication applied to it.

"I'll still need to apply medicine to it," she replied, looking at the huntsman. "Since you don't seem to want your head bandaged, which is a bad idea in my opinion, I'll have to keep this regularly medicated so infections don't set in."

"Don't need you watching over me all the time," Daryl grumbled.

"You got grazed by a bullet and impaled by your arrow," Charlotte replied. "I _have_ to watch over you. Seeing as you don't seem interested in resting or keeping your bandages on, I'll have to make sure you don't strain yourself."

"Ain't you got T-Dog and the kid to worry about?"

"T-Dog's cut is healing up just fine," Charlotte said. "The antibiotics fought off the infection and he should be getting the stitches out in a matter of weeks. Hershel's got Carl under control. He's got more medical experience than I do, so I think he knows what he's doing with stuff like that." Daryl's face hardened. "I managed to keep Carl and T-Dog alive and I'll keep _you_ alive, OK?" she sighed. "Don't get all uppity with me."

Looking at Charlotte carefully, Daryl went back to focusing on his arrow. He didn't say anything, which Charlotte didn't expect him to, so she took that as her sign to leave.

"I'll be sure to come back with some medicine," she said. "Are your stitches holding up at least?"

Daryl responded with a short nod.

"Good." As she turned to leave, she heard Daryl mumble something. Turning to look at him, Charlotte felt a wave of confusion wash over her. "I'm sorry?" she said.

Without looking her way, Daryl mumbled a "thank you".

Feeling the corners of her mouth twitch upward, Charlotte nodded in response.

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

By the time Charlotte had gathered all her medial supplies, plus a few things she managed to nab from Hershel's, she noticed a majority of the group was leaving. The only ones who stayed behind were Dale, Glenn, and — hopefully, but probably not — Daryl.

"Hey Dale!" she called. "Where're they going?"

"Shooting practice," Glenn replied. "Shane was wondering if you were coming."

Charlotte frowned deeply. After the little discussion they had the previous night — that little debate — Charlotte was in no mood to be around him. "I wish I could go, but I can't," she said. "They're gone now."

With a nod, Glenn turned his attention back to Dale. Charlotte took notice to how Glenn's facial expression looked like it was borderline mortified, plus a bit of confliction. It helped Charlotte know that he wasn't sick, thank God, but it didn't help that he looked scared out of his mind. He seemed more than fine the day before, what could've caused him to become so jumpy in such a short time?

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **Sorry for the delay on this chapter, hopefully you guys like it though. If there's anything you think needs improvement, don't hesitate to let me know.**

 **Do I own TWD? No. No I do not.**

 **I finished all my finals for winter quarter, so now I am on spring break. So, I've got about two and a half weeks to do as many updates as possible when I'm outside of work. I do go back to college for spring quarter in early April, just so you guys know.**

 **If you've got ideas for subplots or OCs, don't hesitate to let me know.**

 **Thanks.**

 **Alek Haydn**


	37. Chapter 37

_"I'm on the right track, baby, I was born to survive!_

 _No matter black, white, or beige, Chola or orient made,_

 _I'm on the right track, baby, I was born to be brave!"_

-Born This Way; **by Lady Gaga**

* * *

Dale approached Charlotte almost immediately after his little discussion with Glenn. Charlotte could see the absolute horror on his face, the disbelief on his face made her stomach knot up.

"Is it true?" he exclaimed. "Is everything Glenn said true?"

"What'd he say exactly?" Charlotte said, her words slow and cautious.

"Lori being pregnant and walkers in the barn."

Charlotte's blood ran cold. She remembered Glenn mentioning Lori's pregnancy, it was a vague memory but it was there! But rotters in the barn? How had that gone unnoticed? Was Hershel aware of it?

 _Of course he's aware of it!_ a small voice in the back of Charlotte's mind snapped. _It's his property! You think he wouldn't notice something like that? God knows why he'd want to keep rotters to begin with. He must be out of his damn mind._

"There're rotters in the barn?" she hissed.

Dale paled in comparison to that. Taking off his hat, the older man ran a hand over his head, looking conflicted and concerned. Charlotte didn't blame him for feeling that way; they were all in danger. It didn't matter how many rotters Hershel had in that barn, even a small handful could be a potential danger to everyone. And in Lori's condition plus Carl's recovery period, they were at an even bigger disadvantage.

"I-I knew Lori was pregnant," Charlotte muttered softly, shifting where she stood. "Glenn told me. I didn't think it'd be anything that bad, but...I didn't know about the barn. Is Glenn _positive_ about the rotters?"

"He went there last night," Dale sighed. "I'll take a look around then I'll talk to Hershel. If it's true, I don't think it'd be safe for us to stay here. Especially considering Lori's pregnant."

"What should I do?"

"Don't say anything just yet. We need to keep this between us."

Nodding, Charlotte watched as Dale went in the direction of the barn. Hershel had said on a few occasions how he didn't want Rick or his people at the barn, that it was the responsibility of Hershel and his family to maintain whatever or whoever was living in there. It made sense, the more Charlotte thought about it. Charlotte was allowing herself to not be as perceptive as she thought she was. She was getting a little too comfortable and that wouldn't have ended well in the slightest.

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

After about an hour and a half, Rick and the others came back. There was an air of satisfaction around all of them, which was difficult to ignore. Rick was talking to Shane, looking around the small group that went to the shooting area. Everyone who went turned in their guns before dispersing, some of them sticking together to talk, others going their separate ways to do whatever they pleased.

Charlotte kept an eye on Glenn, who was still looking somewhat skittish, but not acting as badly as before. Dale had returned not that long after going to the barn; the older man looked stressed.

"Are you okay?" The voice snapped Charlotte out of her thoughts and observations. Turning, she saw Carl standing there. He looked significantly better since the last time she saw him, but that was before he'd received surgery. Since then, Hershel had been taking care of Carl since the surgical supplies had been delivered. Charlotte simply didn't want to intervene.

"I'm okay," she responded. "You?"

Carl nodded. "I'm doing better," he exclaimed, sounding almost confident in his answer. "Hershel says I'm healing up nicely."

Smiling, Charlotte nodded. "I'm glad to hear that," she stated. "Have you been taking it easy?"

Once again, Carl nodded.

"Good." Charlotte gave a small smile. "How'd shooting practice go?"

"It was good," he responded. "And are you sure you're okay? You've been acting weird."

Charlotte had to admit that Carl was very observant; far more observant than she gave him credit for. But she also knew that it wasn't her place to tell him about Lori's pregnancy or of the rotters in the barn.

 _Then again, how do we even know if Rick's aware of the situation?_

The thought was unsettling. How long would it be until the rest of the group found out? Certainly it wouldn't go over well, and it was obvious that there'd be more tension in the group and with Hershel and his family.

"It's just been a pretty stressful day," she said. "But you shouldn't be worrying about _me_ ; you should be worrying about _you_."

"Everyone's been worrying about me."

"And there's a good reason for that." Charlotte's tone became clipped. "Don't worry about me, since I'm not the one who got shot."

A slight scowl came across Carl's face. "Why doesn't anyone trust me to say anything?" he exclaimed. "I'm not stupid, I understand what's going on now; I can handle anything else."

"You're _not_ stupid," Charlotte responded. "But sometimes, if there're things that are thought to not be handled properly, it'll be in one's best interest not to mention it right away."

"So there _is_ something?"

"I never said that." Charlotte gave Carl a look. "But keep in mind that there _are_ things you wouldn't be able to know or understand right away. I don't know entirely what's going on, if anything at all, but just keep in mind that you're still a kid and your parents and everyone else would want to protect you."

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **I know, I know** **— this chapter is long overdue, but here it is! Hopefully you've received some kind of entertainment or enjoyment from this. This chapter wasn't my best, but I hope it was at least decent. If there's anything that needs improvement, don't hesitate to let me know.**

 **Do I own TWD? No. No I don't.**

 **So, the season 7 finale! I know that season 7 has received a lot of mixed reviews from everyone who's watched, but from what I understand, the finale received a lot of mixed reviews. Some people thought the finale was good, some thought it was stupid and the entirety of season 7 was a waste _(minus the premier where Abraham and Glenn died)_. For those who've seen the last episode, what did you think? Did you think the finale was good or bad?**

 **Also, today, Wednesday April 5th, I'm going back to school so my schedule will heavily depend on my work and school schedule. Notice that I will try my best to update new chapters when I don't have work and a lot of homework _(as far as homework's concerned, I am taking some heavy classes this quarter so I may not be able to update even when I'm off from work)_. As long as you're patient with me, I'd greatly appreciate it. Don't hesitate to give ideas or provide constructive criticism where you think it's needed. I'd  love that! Really.**

 **Anywho, that's all I've got for now.**

 **Be kind to one another, don't text and drive, and hopefully you guys don't have any spring allergies.**

 **Thank you.**

 **Alek Haydn**


	38. Chapter 38

_"Listen to the wind blow,_

 _Watch the sun rise,_

 _Run in the shadows,_

 _Damn your love, damn your lies,_

 _And if you don't love me now,_

 _You will never love me again,_

 _I can still hear you saying,_

 _You would never break the chain...,"_

-The Chain; **by Fleetwood Mac**

* * *

As the day went on, slow and strangely uneventful, Shane and Andrea had gone off somewhere. Rick didn't seem bothered by the idea of the two driving off, and Charlotte could only assume it had to do with the shooting practice that had gone on earlier. Seeing everyone going about, acting as if everything were normal, that made an unsettling feeling rise in the pit of Charlotte's stomach. Dale and T-Dog were getting things ready to start dinner; Rick was organizing some of the remaining firearms; Carol was cleaning the dishes; and Glenn and Maggie were nowhere to be seen.

Part of Charlotte reminded her to check in on Daryl, to see how his wounds were healing; but there was another part of her that was starting to overwhelm the more sensible side, one that was just anxious at how everyone seemed to be adapting and settling in. Tents were scattered everywhere; the small fire-pit where food would be cooked; a damned picnic table in the center of it all — it made something churn in Charlotte. It wasn't a pleasant feeling. She knew she had to do something, anything, to keep herself from getting too worked up over everything.

 _"Why are you even feeling like this?"_ she mentally scolded herself. _"You've got food and shelter. You have people who genuinely care about you. Why are you making this so difficult for yourself?"_

Why was she, though? There was no real reason for her to be feeling so anxious. Was it because of the things Glenn and Dale told her? Lori's pregnancy and the rotters in the barn were a big deal, but Charlotte just didn't see herself blowing it out of proportion. Not to mention that after Dale came back from his inspection, he hadn't uttered a word on what he'd gathered. He looked a bit defeated, but it didn't do anything to ease the situation. And it _definitely_ didn't help that, still, no one but Glenn, Dale, and Charlotte knew about the rotters in the barn.

Biting her bottom lip anxiously, Charlotte brushed some of her strawberry blonde hair out of her face. She had to keep herself busy. She had to earn her keep in Rick's group.

Going over to where Carol stood, cleaning the dishes, Charlotte carefully cleared her throat. Carol seemed to jump, but visibly relaxed when she saw Charlotte.

"I was wondering if you needed help," Charlotte said.

"I'd appreciate that." The older woman gave a small, sheepish smile. Scooting over so there was some room, Charlotte started picking through some dishes, getting a damp towel, and started cleaning. The routine went on in relative silence, the only sounds being the clattering of the dishes and the noises of whatever anyone else was doing. Somewhere during that time, Lori walked up to Rick and started a hushed, heated discussion with him.

"You look a bit anxious," Carol murmured, placing a clean fork on the side. "Is there something wrong?"

Letting out an airy chuckle, Charlotte shrugged. "I'm just overthinking," she replied. "Everything's just so normal right now, it's throwing me off."

"That's bad?"

"When I was with my first group, the last time something _normal_ happened, it all went sideways not long after." Shrugging her shoulders, Charlotte tried brushing it off. When her boyfriend, Gavin, had still been alive, there had been a few instances where he seemed to be acting relatively normal — or as normal as one could be in the world they were living in. His behavior didn't seem as erratic; he wasn't coming off as intimidating or threatening all the time. Hell, he was happy that their little group had grown a little, and it looked as if things were turning for the better. That was how Charlotte saw it, anyway. But when things were really looking up — where it seemed like they had the whole surviving-the-apocalypse thing down — the very next day, they killed someone who belonged to a violent gang of men. Then Gavin negotiated trading Charlotte over to compensate for the man's life.

"I'm sorry," Carol said, her voice sounding almost small.

"It's not your fault," she sighed. "I just didn't really want to see the big picture. I didn't want to _see_ how everything turned out."

Carol didn't say anything, and in all honesty, Charlotte didn't expect her to. What Charlotte was feeling seemed irrational, but maybe she was justified in feeling that way. The last time she felt genuine normalcy, things didn't go as planned. And when she'd come into contact with the next group, the one she swindled, she feigned normalcy in order to rob them blind. That ended with her getting cut and almost losing her life. Needless to say, it felt as if the relationship between Charlotte and normal didn't really exist.

 _"It doesn't exist for anyone anymore,"_ a small voice in the back of her head whispered. _"You can pretend all you want, but there's always that threat that lingers in the shadows. It'll always be there."_

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

By the time Charlotte and Carol had finished washing the dishes, Dale had started cooking. Charlotte helped Carol place the cleaned dishes on the picnic table, a calm silence surrounding all of them.

"I'm gonna go inside really quick," Carol said, "I'll be right back."

With a smile and a nod, Charlotte watched as the older woman went in the direction of Hershel's house. Once she was positive Carol was out of earshot, Charlotte walked over to where Dale was cooking and knelt down. "Did you talk to Hershel about the rotters?" she murmured, making sure to keep her voice low.

"I did," he murmured. The look on his face was solemn, and it made Charlotte feel even more anxious. "He thinks they're still people, that they're alive."

"What?"

Shaking his head, Dale let out an almost defeated sigh. "I don't know," he muttered. "I'm still trying to make sense of all this."

"We'll figure something out," Charlotte sighed. "But I really think we should let Rick know. This is serious." Before the discussion could go any further, Carol came back. Standing up, Charlotte tried looking as calm as possible. From the looks of it, Carol didn't really seem to notice anything out of the ordinary, either.

"Food's almost done," Dale said, keeping his tone neutral, "why don't you tell everyone to get ready?" The question was aimed at Charlotte, who gladly left the duo to get the others ready to eat. Oddly enough, from what Charlotte could gather at least, Andrea and Shane hadn't returned from their shooting practice; it didn't seem to bother anyone else in the group, and if that was the case, then she wouldn't let it bother her.

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

Not only were Andrea and Shane not back at camp, but Glenn had run off, too. Which could only mean he went on another shopping trip for the group. Lori had decided not to join anyone for dinner — and Charlotte could only assume it was because of the smell of the food — and everyone else quietly sat around eating away. The sun was starting to go down and the insects were starting to make their appearance.*

By the time dinner had finished, all the dirty dishes had been gathered, put away to be washed later. After that, everyone went in different directions.

Charlotte hung around Dale's RV, just watching the scenery. There wasn't much else to do, so it was a relatively easy night.

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

By the time the next morning rolled around, the air was tense and the camp was silent. Andrea and Shane returned to camp about half an hour after dinner; Glenn, with Maggie accompanying him, returned twenty minutes after Andrea and Shane. Maggie, needless to say, was genuinely pissed off and yelled at Lori over something. That tension, plus whatever problems mounted on top of that, worked its way into the morning, making everyone restless and anxious. Carol silently cooked eggs for everyone while everyone sat around, either eating some meat Carol cooked not long before the eggs or inspecting their weapons.

Glenn and Charlotte sat the furthest from the group, the two of them having a murmured conversation. Occasionally, Glenn would look back at the house; Maggie stood on the front porch, shooting daggers his way.

"Did something happen?" Charlotte asked.

Looking at his plate, Glenn paled a little. He'd barely touched his food, and looked like he was itching to say something. "She doesn't want me telling the others about the barn," he whispered.

"Well. . . .what do you wanna do?"

Chewing his bottom lip, Glenn looked at the rest of the group before looking back at Maggie. He looked horribly conflicted. There was no doubt in Charlotte's mind that there was some kind infatuation between Maggie and Glenn, and that was probably why there was so much hesitation on his part.

"What do you think I should do?" he murmured.

"In my opinion, I'd tell the others," she said. "It's just. . . .there's _rotters_ in there. If that barn gets a breach, we'll have God knows how many of them all on us."

"I just don't want Maggie getting angrier at me."

"I understand the relationship you've got with Maggie is important," Charlotte said, keeping her voice quiet, "but is it really more important than everyone's lives?"

That seemed to be what he needed to hear. Handing his plate to her, Glenn stood up and walked over to the group, shifting anxiously from one foot to the other. "Uhm. . . .Guys," he stammered. Everyone continued eating their food or checking their weapons, but they made sure to at least pay attention to what Glenn was attempting to tell them. "So. . . .The barn's full of walkers."

That statement alone got their undivided attention.

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **Hey-yo, everyone. I hope life's been treating you all well. I'm sorry for the delayed update, but here you go! If you see anything that comes off as confusing or whatever, don't hesitate to review or PM me, okay? Constructive criticism is always important.**

 **Sadly, I own nothing in TWD. All I own are my characters and the fillers I put in.**

 **If you guys have ideas for subplots or OCs you'd like to see added to the story, don't hesitate to let me know! Having readers contribute their own thoughts or characters into a story is important, in my opinion.**

 **Also — and yes, I understand I'm a bit late for this** **— what did you guys think of season 7?! That was definitely a rollercoaster right there. All the deaths and betrayals and Negan being an ass to everyone. If you feel like expressing your thoughts on season 7, I have no problems with you PMing or reviewing.**

 **QUESTION TIME: I understand that I haven't written Merle into the story yet, but I am curious on what you guys have to say. When it comes time for the Governor to appear, should I kill Merle off like in the show or should I keep him alive? Like I said, I'm just curious.**

 **Last thing, has anyone seen GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY 2 yet? In all honesty, the only reason I went to see it was because I wanted to know how the soundtrack was _(and also because I love MARVEL movies)_. I loved the songs they had for the first one so I was hoping the second one had an even better song choice.**

 **That's all I've got.**

 **Be kind to one another, don't text and drive, and I hope those of you in school get through your finals.**

 **Thank you.**

 **Alek Haydn**


	39. Chapter 39

_"For what is a man, what has he got?_

 _If not himself, then he has naught,_

 _To say the things he truly feels;_

 _And not the words of one who kneels,_

 _The records show I took the blows_ _—_

 _And did it my way...,"_

-My Way; **by Frank Sinatra**

* * *

Not a second was spared after Glenn's announcement. Shane dropped whatever he was holding and marched over to the barn, Rick hot on his heels trying to calm his friend down. The others were not far behind, exclaiming their disbelief and fear. They didn't want to believe Hershel was hoarding rotters in the barn, they didn't want to think that such an idyllic piece of property could having something so. . . . _dangerous_! What were they supposed to do? Raid the barn and kill all the rotters? Negotiate with Hershel? Wait for something horrible to happen? In no time at all, it became nearly a screaming match between everyone in the group. There were a few who sided with Rick — they didn't want to cause any more friction between themselves and Hershel's people. There was maybe one person who sided with Shane — they wanted to go in the barn that very minute and kill all the rotters inside.

"This is _Hershel's_ property," Rick exclaimed, hoping to calm Shane down. "We can't just come in and take over!"

"The what do you expect we do?" Shane snapped. "Wait 'til something happens? Wait 'til one of those walkers busts out and kills someone?"

"We need to talk to Hershel," Rick pressed. "This is not our decision to make!"

"Why don't we make sure there's actually walkers in the barn first," Lori exclaimed. "Just to make sure."

"There are," Glenn said, a hint of defensiveness in his voice. "I saw them!"

"Can't we all just calm down first?" Charlotte snapped. "All this arguing isn't going to help us make a proper decision."

After a few more minutes of loud discussing, the group finished their journey to the barn. Carefully maneuvering over the fence Hershel had put up, everyone but Glenn, Dale, and Charlotte carefully pressed themselves against the doors of the barn. Even from a fair distance, the groans and shuffles of the rotters could be heard; and from the sound of it, there seemed to be a good amount in there. That was when the tension all but snapped.

"You cannot tell me you're all right with this," Shane growled, storming over to Rick.

"You know I'm not, Shane," Rick exclaimed, his voice sounding almost like a growl. "But we're guests here. This isn't our land."

"This is our lives!" Shane shouted.

"Lower your voice," Charlotte snapped.

"We can't just sweep this under the rug," Andrea exclaimed.

"Then what should we do?" Charlotte exclaimed.

"It ain't right," Shane went on. "Not even remotely." Shaking his head, Shane rubbed his shaven head anxiously as he paced back and forth. "We either got to go in there, we've got to make things right; or we've just got to go. Now we have been talking about Fort Benning for a long time. . . ."

"We can't go!" Rick snapped.

"Why, Rick?" Shane pressed. "Why?"

"Because my daughter is still out there," Carol said meekly.

"I think it's time we all start to consider the other possibility," Shane exclaimed, rubbing his face in exasperation.

"We can't just give up on her like that," Charlotte said. "Not until we know for sure."

"We're not leaving Sophia behind," Rick snapped.

"I'm close to finding this girl," Daryl exclaimed. "I just found her damn doll two days ago."

Letting out a humorless chuckle, Shane threw his hands up. "You found her doll, Daryl," he exclaimed, "that's all you did. You found a _doll_."

"You don't know what the _hell_ you're talkin' about!" Daryl barked, storming in Shane's direction. If it hadn't been for Carol stopping him from going any further, there would undoubtedly be some kind of physical confrontation.

"I'm just saying what needs to be said!" Shane snapped. "You get a good lead, it's in the first _forty-eight hours_!"

"Shane, stop it!" Rick barked.

"Let me tell you something else, man," he went on, brushing Rick off. "If she was alive out there and saw you coming, all methed out with your buck knife and your geek ears around your neck, she would run in the other direction."

That was when both men tried going at each other, pointing and shouting profanities. Rick and Lori tried holding Shane back, the two of them trying to calm the situation down. Carol and Charlotte tried getting a hold on Daryl, hoping to get him to calm down enough to not make the situation even worse. Even Glenn and Andrea got in the middle, hoping to get the two men to stop. When they calmed down enough to where they weren't trying to attack each other, both men shrugged off all the people holding them back. The glares on Daryl's and Shane's face was intense, certainly intense enough to burn a hole through each other's skulls.

"Just let me talk to Hershel!" Rick announced. "Let me figure it out."

"What are you going to figure out!?" Shane shouted.

"If we're gonna stay here," Rick hissed, "if we're gonna clear this barn, I have to talk him into it. This is _his_ land."

"Hershel sees those things in there as people," Dale put in. "Sick people. His wife, his stepson. . . ."

"You knew?" Rick exclaimed.

"Yesterday I talked to him," the older man went on.

"And you waited the night?" Shane seethed.

"I thought we could survive one more night," Dale said. "We did. I was waiting until this morning to say something, but Glenn wanted to be the one."

"The man is crazy, Rick," Shane exclaimed. Before the argument could go any further, the rotters started pressing themselves against the locked barn doors, their growls becoming louder. With them pressing their weight against the doors like that, it'd be a matter of time before it gave out from under them and they'd be let lose. With that, the discussion was moved somewhere else.

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

"We can't just go and do something like that," Charlotte exclaimed. "That's not our decision."

"So you'd rather us sit and wait?" Shane barked, pointing at her.

"I think we should at least let Hershel know how we feel about this," she snapped. "I know this isn't safe! I don't like the idea of being so close to them. I want to kill them just as badly as you do but Hershel's got this whole delusion set around them. He thinks they're alive."

"The man is crazy!" Shane shouted.

"Will you lower your voice," Rick hissed, pressing a hand firmly on Shane's chest. "If we're going to handle this situation, we can't act like this."

"I am not comfortable knowing those walkers are close to us," Lori said, shaking her head. "We have to figure something out and we have to do it quick. You saw how those doors were; they're weak. Just a little more weight on them and they'll give out."

"How're you going to convince Hershel to get rid of them?" T-Dog asked, pacing around anxiously. "He's already got problems with us."

"We've got to act now," Shane exclaimed, putting extra enunciation on each word.

The group was gathered around their campsite, their arguing having gotten increasingly worse. No one could come to an agreement. Everyone was worried sick about whether or not to tell Hershel, what would the logical solution to handling the rotters, what to ask Hershel — it was borderline chaos. No one was willing to meet each other halfway, no one wanted to listen to the other's ideas, it had to be one person's specific idea or suggestion. Particularly Rick's or Shane's. And when it became obvious to both men that they weren't getting any closer to an agreement, Shane stormed off towards the barn, muttering something about checking its perimeter.

After Shane stormed off, everyone went off in their own direction. Glenn went to talk to Maggie; Lori and Carl went off together; Rick went over to Hershel's home; Dale climbed his RV to look for rotters; Daryl stormed off somewhere and Carol followed him not long after. Andrea and T-Dog went in their separate ways doing God knows what.

Charlotte sat herself down at the picnic table, resting her face in her hands. Glenn had come back after a couple minutes, covered in something, though no one cared enough to even question what it was. Carl had gone to hang out somewhere else on Hershel's property and Lori had ventured off somewhere.

"Hey, I'll take watch," Glenn said, looking up at Dale. When Glenn made his way up to the top of the RV, the older man handed him the rifle before climbing down. There was a silence after that. Dale stood in front of the RV for a moment, looking out at the property.

"Is there anything either of you might need help with?" Charlotte asked. Everyone else might be off fuming somewhere else, but Charlotte wanted to do something to keep her mind off things. If that meant doing chores, then so be it.

"I don't think so," Glenn announced. "I think we're pretty caught up on everything."

Without so much as acknowledging the others, Andrea walked into Dale's RV.

"We're good, Charlotte," Dale replied, looking at his RV nervously. "Thank you." With that, he went inside to see what Andrea was doing.

"I think Rick's putting together a search party for Sophia," Glenn said. "Did you want to help with that?"

Did she? While it wouldn't have been bad to help out, she wasn't sure she wanted to go out anymore. Rubbing her face in agitation, Charlotte let out a tense sigh. "When's he going out?" she asked.

"Probably after talking to Hershel."

Before the discussion could go any further, Carol and Daryl walked by — the huntsman more or less storming off, a scowl evident on his face. Carol looked as if she'd been crying, which was worrisome.

Sitting up and walking over to her, Charlotte gently placed a comforting hand on the older woman's forearm. "Is everything okay?" she murmured.

Quickly wiping her eyes, Carol tried for a smile, but she just couldn't do it. "It's nothing," she whispered. Charlotte's brows furrowed a little. "Really, it's nothing. I'm fine." When Carol walked off, Charlotte's immediate thought was to go ask Daryl. From what she could tell, he looked pissed. She didn't have much interaction with Daryl, so she wasn't entirely sure what he was capable of — she wasn't sure she _wanted_ to — but from what she _could_ gather, Daryl was quick to make a response when the situation arose. Whether that response was hurtful or helpful seemed to rely on whether Daryl was in a good mood or not, in Charlotte's opinion.

Pursing her lips, Charlotte walked over to the direction the huntsman had gone. When she reached what she believed to be his tent, she took a deep breath and cleared her throat. "Daryl?" she called. When there was no response, she tried again. Hearing a harsh grumble in response, Charlotte knelt down and made her way into his tent.

"The hell're you doing?" he snapped.

"I'm going to check your injuries," she replied, her tone equally as snappish. "I forgot to do it earlier."

"Don't need it." Turning his head away from her, Daryl tried positioning his body to where he wouldn't have to see her.

"I could give a flying rat's ass if you want it or not," Charlotte said sharply. "I'm going to check."

"What'd you say?" the huntsman barked.

"I don't give a flying _rat's ass_ if you want it or not," she barked. "Sit down, shut up, and let me check." The look on Daryl's face would've been enough to make most people terrified, but in Charlotte's case, she wasn't going to let herself become frightened. She had been in worse situations. She was irritated, steadily becoming overwhelmed with all the drama the group was facing. Motioning him to move his shirt, he did so with the angered look still on his face. Apparently, from what Charlotte gathered, he wasn't used to having someone in the group confront him like that. Or, if he was, he didn't take it well. The bandages around his stitches were gone, and the area around it looked red and puffy. It also looked like there was a bit of a strain on the stitching, like it'd burst at any wrong movement. "Why'd you take the bandages off?" Charlotte muttered. No response. "It's swollen, probably infected. There's no discharge, not yet at least. That's why I wanted the bandages kept on, so something like this wouldn't happen."

The only response she got from him was an unintelligible grumble.

"Why the hell are you like this?" Charlotte barked. "Why do you have an attitude all of a sudden?"

"Don't need to be hearing this," he grumbled, moving himself away from her.

"Oh I think you do." Charlotte's voice was clipped and harsh, her gaze hard as she looked at Daryl. "You and Carol go off and suddenly she's coming back crying and you look pissed beyond belief. What's with that?"

"That ain't any of your business."

"Things are already a mess, Daryl," she exclaimed. "Whatever you said to Carol, whatever you _did_ her, she doesn't need that. _We_ don't need that."

"I don't need no lecturin'," he exclaimed. "'Specially by you."

"Apparently you do." Scooting back a little to the entrance of the huntsman's tent, Charlotte threw a heated glare his way. "Why don't you stop getting so worked up over everything and go apologize to Carol? We don't need anymore fighting."

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

As the day progressed, things seemed to be evening themselves out. Daryl and Carol had wandered off not long after Charlotte inspected his injuries. Glenn and Maggie seemed to work out whatever differences they had. Shane and Dale were nowhere to be seen, which was worrisome on its own. Shane's need to go and kill the rotters in the barn had been apparent, so had his eagerness. Knowing Dale was out there, somewhere, with Shane made a knot of discomfort form in the pit of Charlotte's stomach.

But, as the day progressed, everyone started gathering on the front porch of Hershel's home. Beth, Patricia, and Carl were playing some kind of board game. Glenn and Maggie were talking; Charlotte was chewing on her nails as she sat on the rocking chair near the front door.

"Hey," T-Dog exclaimed, walking up to everyone, "do you know what's going on?"

"Where is everyone?" Andrea asked, jogging to catch up to T-Dog.

"You haven't seen Rick?" Glenn asked.

"What about Shane and Dale?" Charlotte asked. "Have you guys seen them?"

"Dale disappeared when I went to get him water," Glenn said. "I have no idea where Shane is."

"Rick went off with Hershel," Andrea said. "We were supposed to leave a couple hours ago."

"Yeah you were." Daryl and Carol walked up to the rest of them, an irritated look on the huntsman's face. "What the hell?" Daryl went on.

"Rick told us he was going out," Carol said.

"Isn't anybody taking this seriously?" Daryl exclaimed. "We got us a damn trail."

Before Daryl could say anything else, Shane showed up with the duffel bag full of firearms. There was a look on his face, and it caused some unsettling emotions to arise in the group.

"What's all this?" Daryl exclaimed.

Shrugging a rifle from his shoulder, Shane handed it to the huntsman. "You with me, man?" he muttered. Without so much as an argument, Daryl took the rifle and readied it. "It's time to grow up," Shane announced. "You already got yours?"

"Yeah," Andrea stammered. "Where's Dale?"

"He's on his way."

"I thought we couldn't carry?" Charlotte exclaimed.

"We can and we have to," Shane snapped. "Look, it was one thing sitting around here picking daisies when we thought this place was supposed to be safe. But now we know it ain't. How about you, man?" Walking over to Glenn, a rifle was shoved in his direction. "You gonna protect yours?" There was some hesitation on Glenn's part, but he took the rifle. "Can you shoot?" The question was aimed at Maggie, who looked visibly uncomfortable but also furious.

"Can you stop?" she exclaimed. "You do this, you hand out these guns, my dad will make you leave tonight."

Ignoring the comment, Shane kept going around, shoving rifles and handguns at the people around. There was an indescribable look on Shane's face, and it made the air seem heavier. An obvious tension arose.

"We shouldn't be doing this," Charlotte said, stiffening when a handgun was shoved into her arms. "Things are already bad enough."

"You rather wait around 'til everything goes to shit to do something?" Shane's response was sharp and hostile.

"Maggie has a point. If we go around waving these guns at everything, we'll be thrown out." Charlotte prayed Shane had at least _some_ common sense — she didn't want to be kicked off the property, to go back out _there_. She sort of liked the feeling of being safe, of having food and shelter.

"We're not leaving," Carl said, standing up from where he was sitting.

"What is this?" Lori stormed out from the entrance of the property.

"We ain't going anywhere, okay?" Shane announced. "Now look, Hershel. . . .he's just gotta understand. He. . . .He's just gonna have to." Taking out another handgun, Shane knelt in front of Carl. "Now we need to find Sophia," he said. "Am I right? Now I want you to take this. You take this, Carl, and you keep your mother safe. You do whatever it takes."

"Rick said no guns," Lori hissed. "This is not your call. This is not your decision to make."

Before the tensions could get any worse, T-Dog drew everyone's attention somewhere else. Near the gate surrounding Hershel's home, Hershel, Jimmy, and Rick could be seen coming through. . . .leading rotters onto the property.

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **If you guys found this chapter too similar to the episode, I apologize. If you guys are a tad irritated with the wait for this chapter, I apologize. I just hope you guys found this chapter enjoyable.**

 **Do I own TWD? No. No I don't.**

 **For those of you who have OCs or subplots you'd like to have written into the story, don't hesitate to PM me or leave a review. I don't mind at all adding those things into the story.**

 **Be kind to one another, don't text and drive, and I hope you guys have a lovely and safe summer.**

 **Thanks.**

 **Alek Haydn**


	40. Chapter 40

_"I've never hurt nobody, never buried a body,_

 _Never killed no one, no, no,_

 _I ain't afraid to get a little crazy,_

 _Baby, when I'm in love,_

 _You say you've had your fun,_

 _And that you're done and I'm the one,_

 _Just know that if you fuck around,_

 _Boy, I'll hunt you down...,"_

-Hunt You Down; **by Kesha**

* * *

It was in that moment, seeing Rick helping bring rotters onto the property, that whatever _sliver_ of normalcy there was left, vanished. All the tensions that were hanging over everyone's heads snapped. Shane was the first to react, sprinting down to where Rick, Hershel, and Jimmy were. Everyone else followed without a second thought. Any argument over what to do with the rotters in the barn or Shane's gun distribution was long forgotten.

"What the hell are you doing!?" Shane shouted, slamming the gate to Hershel's property open. The look that came across Rick's face was like a mixture of frustration and almost _shame_. Hershel, on the other hand, seemed more irritated that he was being interrupted.

"Shane, just back off," Rick snapped.

"Why do your people have guns?" Hershel exclaimed.

"Are you kidding me!" Shane barked. "You see? You see what they're holding onto!?"

"I see _who_ I'm holding onto," Hershel snapped.

"No, man, you don't," Shane exclaimed.

"Shane, stop it," Charlotte said.

"No!" he shouted. "He doesn't understand! He can't see what we see!"

"Just let it go," Rick replied quickly, "and then we can talk!"

"What you wanna talk about, Rick?" The crazed look in Shane's eyes seemed to intensify with each passing second. No amount of reasoning seemed to get through to him. "These things ain't sick! They're not people. They're _dead_! Ain't gonna feel nothing for them cause all they do? They kill. These things right here! They're the things that killed Amy. They killed Otis! They're gonna kill all of us!"

"Shane, that is enough!" Charlotte barked. "Haven't you done enough?"

When Shane's gaze met Charlotte's, when she saw that crazed expression go in her direction, she felt her stomach knot up, but she wasn't going to back down. That look she saw was almost similar — if not more so — to the look Gavin had before he died, though Gavin's was more controlled than Shane's. Shane. . . .he was a loose cannon; he'd go barreling in wherever he thought a problem was and make it even worse. No, Charlotte wasn't going to become a cowering mess just because Shane didn't like what she was saying. She liked to believe she dealt with worse. Someone like Shane, whose ego and instability were constantly growing, didn't bother Charlotte in the slightest.

"Hey, Hershel, man, let me ask you something," Shane said, his gaze lingering on Charlotte for a moment longer before looking at the older man. "Could a living breathing person, could they walk away from this?" Taking out his handgun, he aimed it at the rotter Hershel had and fired a couple shots. Everyone flinched back, but Hershel's rotter kept coming.

"Stop it!" Rick snapped.

"That's three rounds in the chest," Shane explained. "Could someone who's alive, could they just take that? Why is it still coming!?" A few more rounds were shot off. "That's its heart! Its lungs!" he barked. "Why is it still coming!?" Shane fired off a couple more times.

"Shane, that's enough!" Rick exclaimed.

"Yeah, you're right, man," Shane scoffed. "That is enough." Without another word, he approached Hershel's rotter and shot it in the head. Everyone stood around, watching the whole ordeal in a state of panic and shock, they weren't really sure how to approach it. Charlotte wanted more than anything to go over there and do something, but it felt as if her body had been frozen in spot. The _second_ Shane started firing off those rounds, part of Charlotte knew that if she tried approaching him in any way, he'd more than likely shoot _her_. Despite her believing she wasn't scared of Shane, deep down, there was something in her that was genuinely terrified of him. His instability, his growing need for control and obedience from everyone, it was unsettling. Why no one attempted to do something sooner was beyond Charlotte's comprehension. "Enough," Shane shouted, "risking our lives for a little girl who's _gone_. Enough, living next to a barn filled with things that are trying to _kill us_! Enough! Rick, it ain't like it was before. Now if y'all wanna live, if you wanna survive, you gotta fight for it! I'm talkin' about fighting, right here, right now!"

The immediate beeline to the barn doors got everyone shouting at Shane to stop. Rick tried getting Hershel to get his snare pole so he could go get Shane, but Hershel was so grief-stricken over the _loss_ of his rotter, that he completely ignored Rick's pleading.

When Shane started beating the door open with whatever he could find, everyone's shouts and pleas started to grow louder. It was obvious Shane wouldn't listen until he got his point across. When he got the locks off the door, the sounds of the rotters inside started becoming louder, and anyone who had a gun immediately aimed it at the barn doors. Once the doors opened, and the first rotter came out, that was when everyone opened fire. The bodies started littering the ground in an instant. Charlotte, who stood near T-Dog, felt an immense feeling of guilt for what she was doing. While she couldn't understand why Hershel thought the rotters were living and sick, she knew he was a good man who allowed them refuge on his land. Hershel helped save Carl's life, he allowed them to use his property as a base of operations in finding Sophia, he was giving everyone a chance to at least gather their bearings. How had everything spun out of control so quickly?

While Charlotte shot those rotters, seeing them fall on the ground, it was satisfying and depressing at the same time. Some of these people were Hershel's family, and no matter if they were sick or turned, they were still being shot down by complete strangers. No doubt that was probably the most horrible feeling ever.

Once the last of the rotters had been shot down, there was a heavy silence. The bodies were lying all over the place, some on top of others. God only knows how many there were huddled in that barn. Blood was spattered on the barn wall and all over the ground; the stench was starting to waft around. Hershel, who was on his knees, looked like he was a million miles away. Maggie and Beth were crying, holding their father as they watched what unfolded.

Charlotte let out a deep breath, a heaviness weighing down on her chest. She knew, at that point, Hershel would kick them off his property. And with Lori being pregnant, that only added to their problems. Carl's condition seemed to be improving, but he had to still be weak to an extent. There was no avoiding that Hershel and his daughters would never forgive Rick and his people for what they did. Charlotte's eyes continued to scan the bodies; her hand tightened around her gun.

Before what happened could even sink in, soft growls came from inside the barn. One last rotter. Charlotte found herself tensing, her arm twitching as she resisted the urge to raise her weapon. It felt like everything was moving in slow motion at that point, because it felt as if the rotter was taking its time. Once its silhouette was near the barn doors, everyone could see how small it was compared to the others; looking almost like a child. When the rotter came out, the realization hit everyone like a train. That rotter. . . .it was Sophia. No one moved a muscle. Carol's sobs could be heard, mingling with Sophia's growls and snarls. Everyone watched as Sophia made her way over to where everyone was gathered; her blank eyes scanning the group like a rabid animal. An obvious bite mark was on her shoulder, the blood having darkened and scabbed over long ago.

Rick was the only one who made a move, a solemn look on his face. He walked in front of where Charlotte and the others stood, aiming his gun at Sophia. Once she was close enough, he shot her.

 **—Us Against the World** **—**

It didn't seem to sink in right away, Sophia being a rotter. It was almost like a dream; or, maybe some horrible nightmare. The entire time she had been missing, there was just a small hope — though it had been fading for a while — that Sophia would be found alive. She would be healthy and alive. How were they supposed to live with the fact that not only had Sophia been dead, but a rotter and on Hershel's property the entire time? Even after finding out about the rotters in the barn, that had been far from anyone's mind as a possibility. No one could comprehend Sophia being trapped in a barn full of the dead. But when they saw her coming out of those barn doors, growling and snarling, when they saw Rick shoot her in the head and watched her body fall, they knew it was real. _Carol_ knew it was real, though she didn't want to believe it.

Despite Carol's sobs being the only sound, the silence that fell on everyone was deafening. No one wanted to move, no one even looked at each other. It wasn't until Beth stumbled over to one of the bodies that everyone was brought back to reality. Beth was trying to stifle her own sobs, kneeling down in front of the body of an older woman, probably her mother. When it turned out the rotter was still alive, trying to grab at Beth, everyone ran over to separate them. Beth's screams were high pitched, piercing through the silence along with the rotter's groans. Charlotte grabbed Beth's upper arms, trying to pull her out of the rotter's grasp, while everyone else tried getting the rotter to let Beth go.

Andrea ended up giving Beth's mother the final blow, all the while Beth's terrified cries filled the air.

"Are you OK?" Charlotte asked, her voice soft, trying to get Beth's attention. Unfortunately, the young blonde wasn't listening. Beth's eyes were glued onto her mother's corpse, on the bloodied wound Andrea inflicted on the rotter's head. Hershel stormed over and took his youngest daughter while Maggie tried calming her down. Compared to Hershel and Beth, Maggie seemed to be the only one not visibly shaken over what happened. At least, not anymore.

Eventually, everyone started going in different directions. Final, solemn looks were thrown at the bodies littering the floor, mostly at Sophia and Beth's mother. The deafening silence fell back on everyone.

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **Sorry for the wait, but here's the new chapter! Let me know what you think, OK? Constructive criticism is always welcome.**

 **TWD isn't mine. I own my OCs and my subplots.**

 **If you've got OCs or subplots you'd like written into the story, PM me or leave a review.**

 **Thank you!**

 **Alek Haydn**


	41. Chapter 41

_"Just stop your crying,_

 _It's a sign of the time,_

 _Welcome to the final show,_

 _Hope you're wearing your best clothes,_

 _You can't bribe the door on your way to the sky,_

 _You look pretty good down here,_

 _But you ain't really good...,"_

-Sign of the Times; **by Harry Styles**

* * *

Charlotte walked as far as she possibly could from the farm, a whirlwind of emotions swirling through her. Sophia had been in Hershel's barn the entire time, she had been a _rotter_ the entire time. How could anyone come back from that? Having to see a _child_ as the undead...it was heartbreaking. God only knows what Carol was possibly feeling. She'd been under the belief her daughter would be returned alive and healthy. That thought alone made Charlotte's spiraling emotions go even more out of control. It was becoming harder to focus on anything.

Walking faster, Charlotte felt her breathing becoming labored, her heart pounding almost painfully in her chest. She wanted to calm herself down, to just stop feeling so overwhelmed by her own emotions, but it was nearly impossible. Rick had been so determined to bring Sophia back, he'd done everything he possibly could to look for her, and...

Scowling, she shook her head. Everything was becoming too much. Charlotte couldn't stand it. She _hated_ it. She knew that people died all the time, that the new world was filled with violence and other misfortunes, but knowing that an innocent _child_ had been taken down, alone, sent feelings swirling through Charlotte that she hadn't experienced in a long time.

 _Sophia was alone and scared,_ a small voice whispered. _She didn't have anyone to protect her. Rick left her out there to fend for herself. If he brought her back to the highway, then none of this would've happened._

It would've been easier, right? To blame Rick? He reacted first, went out there to find Sophia after she ran off. It would be so much easier to just blame him for everything that happened. Charlotte couldn't do it, though. Rick Grimes did the best he could, he tried giving Carol enough hope to believe her daughter would be OK in the end. Charlotte couldn't blame him for trying. She couldn't blame Hershel, either; despite Sophia being on his property the whole time.

Stopping, Charlotte felt her breathing becoming even more labored, her heart pounding almost painfully in her chest. Why was she getting so emotional over Sophia's death? Charlotte had witnessed plenty of deaths since the outbreak. Yeah, having to deal with the death of a child is difficult, but why was she so emotional? Charlotte didn't know her, never even talked to her.

Tears formed in Charlotte's eyes, she flinched every time a teardrop fell. A _child_ — that was something that fell on everyone's shoulders, whether they were involved with finding Sophia or not. Sophia's death and turn was on everyone. Maybe that was what was getting Charlotte so emotional. She had been determined in the beginning, but her willingness to help find the young girl diminished over time. She was just as responsible for Sophia's death as anyone else.

She couldn't help the sobs that wracked her body.

 **—Us Against the World—**

The air was starting to get chillier, and Charlotte made no attempt to go back to the farm. She didn't _want_ to go back. She had cried so terribly her body ached, her throat felt raw, and her eyes burned. All she could do was sit down, in the dead grass and dried dirt, and stare out into space. Charlotte understood that the way she was feeling was nothing in comparison to how Carol would be feeling, that much was obvious, but the thought still hurt nonetheless. Looking down, Charlotte studied the ground, but her mind was still wandering. She'd have to get back to camp soon. The sun was in the early stages of setting. The sounds of footsteps behind her got Charlotte's attention. When she turned, she saw Glenn standing there, a solemn look on his face.*

"We're, uh, having a burial for Sophia and Beth's mom," he said, his voice quiet. "It'd be nice if you were there."

"How'd you know I was out here?" Charlotte asked, standing up. Her legs were stiff, but she ignored the feeling.

"Daryl saw you go out here," Glenn responded. "He told me to get you."

With a nod, Charlotte ran a hand through her hair. "Yeah," she said quietly. "Yeah."

"Are you OK?" The look that came on Glenn's face made Charlotte's stomach twist. He looked so concerned for her, and it made her feel terrible. She could only _imagine_ what kind of state she was in.

She shook her head. "I've never talked to that girl," Charlotte said. "I didn't even know her, but I can't explain why I feel like this." She shook her head again. "I don't know if it's because Sophia was just a kid, or because Carol lost her daughter...I don't know," she muttered. "I don't understand it."

"You've tried shutting yourself off from everything," Glenn said. "We've seen how you distance yourself, emotionally and physically. Everything that's happened, everything that's _going_ to happen, it's going to change you. It'll make you someone else. But you shouldn't let everything build up inside you, you shouldn't let it consume you."

Charlotte looked at Glenn for the longest minute. There was some truth behind his words, and it made her think in a way she hadn't before. She had allowed everything that happened to her build up and eat away at her. Charlotte didn't want to get close to anyone, she didn't want to trust anyone anymore than she had to. Things were bad, and Charlotte didn't want to get herself into anymore problems. After Gavin, after everything Charlotte faced since then, she let it eat away at her. Charlotte let it get bigger and bigger until...until Sophia happened. She couldn't push that down, she couldn't let herself forget it. Having to deal with the loss of a child in the new world was beyond comprehension. It was a newer, more foreign kind of pain. Charlotte had to consider that maybe Sophia's death was what she needed to really let everything go.

"You're right," she said, swallowing thickly. "The, uh, the others are probably waiting. We should get going."

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **What'd you think? Was it any good? I'd appreciate whatever constructive criticism you guys have! That kind of thing is important.**

 **I own nothing in TWD. All I own are my characters and the subplots I put in. If you've got ideas for OCs or subplots, don't hesitate to let me know, OK?**

 **Let me know if there's anything I should improve on.**

 **Sincerely,**

 **Alek Haydn**


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